


hyssop

by dreamults



Series: the sun & the flowers [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 3RACHA, Car Accidents, Fluff and Angst, Han Jisung | Han-centric, Hurt/Comfort, OT9 - Freeform, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2019-11-13 11:38:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18031016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamults/pseuds/dreamults
Summary: jisung had always been strong.





	1. shine.

_thanks to you, i was able to shine on a stage i could only dream of._

 

it’s raining when the older members of stray kids reach the dorms.

 

rain- small, crystal drops, gleam silver under the dim moonlight as they approach the dorm building. a light breeze whistles down the street, ruffling their dripping coats and tickling the tendrils of hair on the back of their necks.

 

chan hears someone- changbin- shiver quietly and he moves to engulf the youngest in his left arm, minho cowering on his right. god forbid he get sick in the middle of promotions, not when he’s part of their little producing trio. changbin breathes out heavily and chan fears that a cold may have inflicted itself upon the younger, but that fear only dissipates as soon as it came when changbin leans into the touch, whispering a small, “i’m fine, hyung.”

 

beside them, woojin groans. water seeps into his shoes, dampening his socks and he wishes, for a moment, he were back at home. the streets are desolate and quiet, bar from the wind whispering cold words past their ears. of course, he thinks, because no-one would, and no-one should, be out in this weather.

 

then, they turn the corner into the entrance of their dorm building and woojin, who had chosen to lead the group on the way home, stops dead in his tracks. changbin groans from where he’d buried his head into chan’s side, standing in the middle of a puddle as he slams a weak fist down onto the elder’s shoulder, whimpering for him to keep going. but chan only shushes him, carefully pulling the younger from his back.

 

minho lifts his head from where he’d been concentrating on the ground and nearly blanches, eyes widening and mouth falling open as he staggers forward.

 

in front of the building resides a small garden, always a shade brighter in the rain. but, under the moonlight, the buttercups become a dark shade of amber, and the daisies turn silver. the grass becomes littered with the coffee-coloured leaves of the trees in which they once resided and benches on the outskirts turn dark, besmirched with the graffiti left by the kids living in the apartment below them. the garden is bleak and barren, but that doesn’t stop the boy hunched on the bench closest to the entrance, illuminated by the soft glare of the streetlamps.

 

woojin steps forward slowly from where he stood at the back, lifting his cap off his head. “is that,” he hesitates as he squints, “jisung?”

 

chan gasps as he squeezes changbin tighter in his arms. minho steps forward slowly, chest constricting in consternation. the boy- jisung, as woojin says, is staring vacantly at his feet. his arms lay limply on his lap, hands laying outstretched in front of him.

 

“h-hey!” chan stutters over the thudding of thick raindrops on the concrete. “sung-ah!”

 

the boy remains unmoving, eyes surveying his dripping converse shoes vacuously. he seems unbothered by the rain hailing down on him, soaking through the thin cotton of his cardigan. the street lights illuminate his brunette locks, dampened by the rain, and emphasises the shaking hunch of his back.

 

chan’s eyes widen as he lets his arms fall from changbin’s and minho’s shoulders. running forward with the others hot on his heels, chan rids himself of his jacket.

 

“jisung-ah,” he whispers as he wraps the younger in his jacket, helping woojin lift him up from the wet bench, “what are you doing here? you’ll get sick.”

 

jisung stays silent, avoiding changbin’s eyes as the elder crouches in front of him. with his shoulders slumped, the eighteen-year-old lifts his gaze slowly and smiles weakly, shakily, much unlike the smile that greeted them as they left for practice in the morning.

 

“you lied.” he whispers, lips quivering.

 

changbin’s eyes widen at the hurt that leaks from the younger’s lips- notices that the rain that stains jisung’s cheeks drip from his bloodshot eyes. “about what, ji?”

 

jisung sniffs, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “you said- you said you’d be home by one!” he brings his hands to the sides of his head, leaving chan’s jacket to fall off his shoulders. “y-you lied!”

 

“ji-” woojin tries to reason, bringing his hands up to comfort the younger but jisung flinches at the hands that come to greet him and the elder retracts.

 

“i thought something happened.” jisung cries, “i thought- i thought i was late again. i thought everything- everything-” he stops and breathes in deeply, shuddering as the cold air fills his nose.

 

“hyung?” he whispers into the dead of the night, eyes glazed as he slowly lifts a cold hand to cup minho’s right cheek. the elder flinches at the touch, shivering as jisung’s cold thumb rubs against his cheekbone. “are you real?”

 

chan shuffles forward, placing a gloved hand on jisung’s shoulder carefully. “ji, let’s go inside, okay? come on-”

 

“hyung,” jisung whispers and a puff of white smoke escapes his quivering lips. a tear falls down his cheek and changbin’s eyes widen. “tell me-” he’s crying, shaking, whether it be from the cold or the many thoughts that torture his mind, chan doesn’t know. “are you real?”

 

and then, his eyes slip shut and his body crumbles, falling off the damp bench and colliding with the concrete before anyone can even flinch.

 

woojin is the first to move, ignoring the water that seeps through his jeans as he kneels. he fearfully lifts the younger up into his arms, wiping a gloved hand across jisung’s face. “he’s really cold, chan.” he says to his same-aged friend, “we need to get him inside.”

 

“r-right,” chan stutters, momentarily stunned by the younger’s breakdown.

 

as he carefully helps the eldest place the smaller rapper onto his back, chan vaguely notices how much weight the younger’s lost. he’d always been smaller, second only to changbin- but even then, he’d always been the lighter of the three, puffed cheeks and doe eyes only making the boy seem softer. the company had even told him not to follow in the other’s footsteps by going on a diet, but even so, he’d done it out of solidarity for his brothers.

 

chan tuts quietly, biting his lip as he listens closely to the younger’s heartbeat. it’s calm, but slow, matched with the wheezes that escape jisung’s lips as they walk into the dorm building.

 

behind them, changbin plays with the rings on his fingers worriedly. in all his years living, training and working with the younger, he’d never seen a breakdown so big. sure, he could never count with his fingers alone how many times the younger has locked himself in his dorm room or a studio and refused to come out until he was sure the tears were no longer visible. sure, he could vividly remember how many times he and chan have had to break into the studio in the dead of night to stop the younger from working himself into illness. sure, he could point to every hoodie he owns and sadly say jisung’s shed tears on all of them- but, those were different. _this_ is different.

 

jisung had always been strong. he’d always been there to help other members when they’re struggling- always been there when they need him. from the very moment each one of them had stepped into the practice room for the first time, jisung had been there. before even them themselves could sense if anything was wrong, jisung would be there with a hug and a smile. even when he was hurt to the point of no return- when minho and felix got eliminated, he’d worked harder to make up for letting the two down- wrote until his notebook was filled to the brim, sang until his throat was hoarse, rapped until he had no words left, danced until his legs burned- smiled, smiled, smiled.

 

and yet, he was only eighteen.

 

eighteen. barely older than jeongin, only a day older than his september twin. eighteen and already carrying the weight of his members, part of the base and foundation of stray kids. eighteen and so, _so_ young.

 

“what do you think,” minho gulps heavily as they walk into the dorm, “what do you think is wrong? with- with him.” he motions to the boy fast asleep on chan’s shoulder, brushing wet hair out of the younger’s face.

 

“it’s most likely stress.” chan sighs, turning his neck to nuzzle his face into the crown of jisung’s head as he slowly, quietly, walks into his and changbin’s shared room. jisung would sleep in their room tonight.

 

it had been a pact the trio had made long before the other six arrived. when the number of trainees dwindled until there were only few left to call family. they’d promised each other, in the corner of a barely-lit practice room, to never let another sleep alone when hurt, or ill. it stemmed from when chan was feeling homesick and needed jisung’s hugs to feel warm again, from when changbin was anxious to the point of overwork and panic and could only fall asleep to the soft hums of chan’s voice, from when jisung was insecure in himself, not liking the way his voice sounded or the way his cheeks puffed out, and could only calm in chan and changbin’s arms. they were a family, before they were trainees.

 

“we’ll ask him about it tomorrow.”

 

“tomorrow.” minho echoes, shaking his coat off and watching as the others hurry to make jisung comfortable on chan’s bed, bringing dry clothes and towels to wipe at the younger’s red, fevered skin.

 

tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [say hi!](https://twitter.com/jiskies)  
>    
> shameless promo for all my stayzen readers: [starry night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14547030), [starlight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14592915), [flower patch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16213637)


	2. together.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jisung had been the one to protect the elder.

_because we were together, we weren’t afraid._

when seungmin wakes up, it’s to the sound of hyunjin stumbling around the room. he groans, covering his eyes from the sunlight that filters into the room when hyunjin blindly pulls the curtains open.

 

“jin,” he slurs, bringing his right arm to obscure his face, “what are you doing?”

 

hyunjin groans as he widens his eyes to the sun, watching as the late night’s rain drips down their window. “chan-hyung wants us to have breakfast together,” the elder says, sitting back on his bed and falling back onto his pillow, “before we go to practice.”

 

seungmin hums and lifts his arm off his face, turning to face hyunjin, who lies on his side, pink headband wrapped tightly around his head. “is jisung up yet?” he asks, motioning to the top of the bunkbed, where a pile of clothes create a barrier across the railing.

 

hyunjin opens his eyes slightly. “he’s in chan’s room. slept there last night.”

 

“oh?” seungmin asks, sitting up hastily, duvet falling onto his lap as he reaches for his glasses. “did he have a bad night? is he hurt? sick?”

 

whilst the worrying would have been quite humorous to hyunjin if it were for anyone else in the group, he finds that he can’t even choke out a forced laugh.

 

it’s no secret to them that everyone has a soft spot for the rapper. as the second member of stray kids and youngest of 3racha, jisung had always been close to chan and changbin. it was inevitable. they were 3racha, the lyricists and producers- they were the very foundation of stray kids, the reason they came to be, and so, they held the most responsibility. the burden they carried was enough to pull them closer together- to the point where they had become their own little family within their much bigger family.

 

as a millennial, it was also no doubt that jisung would be close to hyunjin, felix and seungmin from the moment the practice room door had opened on their first days. he was the one to lead them, though hyunjin was the oldest. he was their guide and their compass, the one who (quite literally, in hyunjin’s case) helped them find their way. he understood them, and they understood him- more than anyone else, because they were same-aged friends, at the exact same point in life.

 

jeongin had been a little different. he was younger than them by only a few months- and he was timid, introvert. when chan had taken their youngest in, it was inexorable that jisung would gravitate closer to the boy. as the youngest of 3racha, he was put in charge of the younger members of stray kids- to guide them and support them. whilst chan was the one who painted the canvas that was jeongin, jisung was the one who perfected it, varnished it and made it what it is today. he’d been the one who helped him with his singing and flow on the survival show- the one who always fought for him, for them all.

 

hyunjin sighs slowly, drawing a breath from his chest. there’s a small silence as the elder lifts himself to sit up, running a hand through his hair. “been working too hard- i think. for a while now, at least. always at the studio or in the practice rooms. maybe he’s finally burnt himself out.” he sighs again, long and hard, weighed down by the guilt of not doing anything. “ever since we’ve started preparing for the comeback, he’s rarely, just- rested. he’s going to end up getting really sick soon- if not, now.”

 

seungmin hums in understanding. “he’s been acting weird lately too. he doesn’t joke around as much, even during events or vlives. doesn’t like leaving us alone too much either. yesterday, he panicked when i said i’d go to the convenience store down the road and begged to come with me, even though i go there at least every week. it’s,” he stops, tapping his chin, “odd.”

 

hyunjin turns to face the younger, making eye contact with seungmin, who bites down on his lip worriedly. he smiles softly, standing to move towards the vocalist, arms open. “it’s okay, seung. don’t worry too much, we’ll just watch him a little more and try to work out how to help him, yeah?”

 

seungmin forces out a smile, breathing in the scent of hyunjin’s perfume.

 

“yeah.”

 

* * *

 

the dorm is quiet when they leave their room.

 

from the living room, hyunjin can see chan and woojin in the kitchen, softly talking as they make breakfast. minho is dozing off on the couch, hoodie obscuring half his face and pyjama pants halfway up his legs. beside him, jeongin is staring at his phone, adorned in a bright pink t-shirt. his head bobs from side to side as his eyes falter before jolting open every few seconds.

 

outside chan and changbin’s shared bedroom is where most of the noise erupts from.

 

seungmin flinches when felix collides with the floor. there’s a flurry of movement before felix shouts out for help, reaching his hands out to jeongin, who only stares back tiredly. changbin, who sits on top of the younger australian, yawns and waves a small ‘good morning’ to the newcomers.

 

“what’s happening?” seungmin asks as he enters the kitchen, leaving hyunjin to deal with the weary changbin and squashed felix.

 

“jisung has a fever.” chan replies as he sets a plate down on the counter. “a really high one. felix wants to go see him but changbin’s not letting him in case he gets ill too. we might have to take ji to the clinic if his fever gets any higher.”

 

“he has a fever?” seungmin mutters, shocked. “how?”

 

woojin sighs. “when we came home, he was sitting out in the rain. he wasn’t wearing a coat or anything. he was acting all- weird? i guess. delusional- got really angry at us for staying out so late and passed out.”

 

“passed out?” seungmin blinks curiously, taking the utensils from chan’s hands and laying them neatly on a stack of tissues.

 

chan hums. seungmin watches as the leader scrubs a hand over his face, clearly exhausted, lines of worry drawn into his forehead.

 

chan’s always been a little softer on the youngest 3racha member. it was a fact of life- they’d been together the longest out of the nine of them. when chan was so close to giving up, watching all his friends debut before him, jisung had been his light. he’d walked into the practice room with so much passion, and yet so much anxiety and fear that all chan had wanted to do was protect him from the harshness of trainee life.

 

and yet, jisung had been the one to protect the elder. in small ways- like, telling him to eat his breakfast or finish his dinner. like, telling the elder to take medication when he was ill or slipping warm tea into his limp hands when his throat failed him. like, persuading the producers into locking the doors to the studios early so chan wouldn’t overwork himself during the night and return to the dorms to get some sleep. like, grasping his hands tightly with tears building up in the corner of his eyes, cheeks and nose rosy as he pleaded, begged, _“hyung, please stay.”_

and, because of that, chan had stayed. after years of not making the cut, being told he couldn’t debut- not yet. after years of watching his friends and fellow trainees do what he could only dream of doing. after years of doubting himself and never knowing when his time would come.

 

he’d stayed and became the head of two, and later, eight other members. he’d stayed and became the leader of a rookie group with nine rookie of the year awards under their belts. he’d stayed and became the person he could finally be proud of. and, for that, he was grateful.

 

“i don’t even know.” chan breathes out heavily, eves closed. “he’s never been this sick before. like, when we were trainees, there were a few times where he’d have a cold or a cough- little things like that. when we were working on _horizon_ , he’d lost his voice a few times, but he’s never been bedridden before. i don’t know what he needs or what to do.”

 

seungmin frowns, bringing a hand up to pat chan’s shoulder comfortingly. “just be there for him, hyung. he’ll tell you if he needs anything. if there’s one person he’d never reveal his weaknesses to, it’s you, hyung. he idolises you too much. but he knows not to let it go too far and he knows when it’s time to ask for help and, god forbid something goes horribly wrong, he knows to go to you.”

 

chan looks at seungmin with sad, guilty eyes. there’s a moment of silence as woojin works to fill the bowls up with rice, before rubbing at their leader’s shoulder. “he’s right, channie.” the eldest says, pouring the chicken soup he’d been making into jisung’s bowl. “don’t look so guilty. here, go take this, and a glass of water, to jisung. seungmin-ah, tell the kids to set the table.”

 

seungmin nods hurriedly, sparing chan one last look and giving the leader a quick hug before walking out into the living room.

 

standing in the door frame, seungmin watches with a small smile on his face at the scene unfolding before him. jeongin’s cries are muffled as hyunjin sits on his face, taking up the whole of the couch. changbin sits on hyunjin’s legs, ignoring the eldest millennial as he whines for him to move. felix, no longer trying to get into changbin and chan’s shared room sits next to a sleepy minho on the floor, the both of them staring intently at the screen as they play mario kart.

 

seungmin’s smile widens as he runs forward, climbing to sit on hyunjin’s stomach and laughing as the elder groans in pain.

 

for a moment, seungmin’s smile falls as his eyes land on the small space on the couch next to jeongin- where jisung normally sits in the mornings, but the frown quickly disappears when he feels the vibrations of jeongin’s cries, yelling, _“get off me!”_ as hyunjin and changbin laugh.

 

he thinks, for a second, that this moment- this moment of emptiness and worry, will pass.

 

* * *

 

chan opens the door to his room quietly, juggling the tray of soup and water on one hand and a bowl of clean water in the other. he curses at the mess of his room, nearly tripping on one of changbin’s hoodies as he tiptoes through the disarray.

 

“jisung-ah,” he whispers, kneeling next to his bed and laying the tray on the desk next to it. he watches as jisung wheezes quietly, cheeks red and nose rosy, chest rising and falling erratically. a small wave of worry passes the leader as he replaces the towel of jisung’s chilly forehead.

 

“jisung-ah,” he repeats, louder and tapping the younger’s cheek lightly, “time to wake up, bud.”

 

jisung groans quietly, aches in his body preventing him from turning over in the bed. he peers through his eyelashes, catching the concern flooding chan’s eyes and promptly moves to sit up, despite his body’s protests.

 

the leader rushes to help the younger, placing his pillow and changbin’s pillow on the small of his back to lean comfortably on. “are you feeling okay, ji? do you need anything?”

 

jisung sits silently, head heavy, before shaking his head slowly, reaching his hand up to hold the towel on his forehead steady. “i’m okay,” he mutters, “i’m okay.”

 

“no, you’re not.” chan chuckles sadly, picking up the glass of water and bringing it to jisung’s lips. “you know, ji, it’s okay to tell me when you’re feeling off, yeah? i know you don’t like seeming- weak, to us, especially to the kids. but, it’s- it’s okay, to let yourself rest once in a while.”

 

“says you.” jisung smiles pointedly.

 

chan lets out a small laugh. “i guess i’m a bit of a hypocrite, hm? but seriously, hannie, take care of yourself just as much as you take care of the others. what you did last night was really scary- and not to mention dangerous.”

 

jisung looks down at his lap, taking the wet towel off his forehead and wiping it across his hands. “’m really sorry, hyung. i- i don’t know what i was thinking. it was just- you said you’d be home by one, and when you didn’t arrive i thought something had happened. and then, when two hours passed- i, i thought you’d, i don’t know-”

 

he trails off at the end and chan notices the panic present within the younger. his eyes are squeezed shut, tears leaking out of them, and his hands shake, gripping the towel and leaving a small wet patch on chan’s duvet. his wheezes turn erratic as his shoulders tense and chan is quick to sit on the edge of the bed and pull the younger into a hug, rubbing at jisung’s back comfortingly.

 

“no, no, ji.” he soothes. “it’s okay- we’re okay. nothing bad happened, nothing bad happened. i promise, ji. we just lost track of time, i promise. i’m sorry- we’re sorry.”

 

jisung settles down slowly, clutching at the back of chan’s hoodie. “don’t tell the others i cried,” he chokes out a laugh, “they still haven’t stopped making fun of me for crying at unveil.”

 

“don’t worry, i’ll protect your almost non-existent dignity.” chan replies playfully, pulling away and reaching for the tray of food on his desk. he wipes at the younger’s cheeks carefully, soothing the burn of salt on jisung’s cheeks. “now, do you think you could eat some of this soup woojin made for you?”

 

“chicken?” jisung sniffs.

 

chan scoffs and lifts the spoon up to jisung’s lips. “of course. what do you think we are? heathens?”

 

jisung lets out a loud, hearty laugh. his eyes crinkle in the corners and his nose scrunches up and chan has to hold himself from cooing at the youngest 3racha member as he feeds the younger.

 

vaguely, he remembers a time not too long ago- the first time he’d seen jisung cry. when changbin was one of the newer trainees, wide-eyed and fresh-faced, ready to face whatever came his way. he remembers talking with jisung in the corner of one of their little make-shift studios in the dorm- when it was just the two of them as the rest of the trainees lived with their parents scattered around seoul. they were, at the time, the only trainees who’d come from foreign countries- chan, from australia, and jisung, from malaysia.

 

chan remembers how the conversation began. they were working on a song for their evaluations when he’d stopped with his composition and slowly turned to the younger, who sat curled up on the couch. “jisung,” he remembers saying slowly, and lowly. “i think this might be the end- for me.”

 

he doesn’t remember what happened after- just the feeling of jisung clutching his hand tightly to his chest. he barely remembers feeling jisung’s heart beat faster than normal, tears leaking out of his eyes as he begged for the elder to stay because _“i can’t do this without you, hyung- i can’t, i can’t-”_

 

but he does remember the blur of his own eyes- the tears leaving salty burns all over his cheeks as he chokes on a sob. he remembers his own heart beating against his ribcage, arms shaking as jisung hugs him.

 

he remembers pulling away and apologising profusely, promising to do better, to _be_ better, to work harder- to be the captain of the ship that carried the both of them.

 

because before stray kids, before the busking, before the missions and the performance battles, before the elimination show, before the mixtapes and ep’s, before 3racha- it had just been chan and jisung. together. walking towards their dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [say hi!](https://twitter.com/jiskies)   
> 


	3. first.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> felix wishes that he could make jisung smile for the rest of his life, even if it meant the night sky lost a few stars to the abyss of constellations in his twin’s eyes.

_let’s not forget our hearts at the start and our firsts._

their days off normally go like this: woojin will wake up second- at around ten o’clock, to the sound of jeongin banging his knee against the railing of his bunkbed, and then proceed to wake his other roommates up. he’ll wake minho up first- so the younger can change into some clothes and help to make breakfast, before helping jeongin from his bunkbed and then felix from his spot on the floor. then, he’ll move on to hyunjin, seungmin and jisung’s shared room. he’ll kick away the dirty laundry on the floor and tiptoe to their beds, quietly shaking the eldest and the youngest millennial boys awake before leaving the room and getting a start on breakfast.

 

he’ll always let jisung, changbin and chan sleep in.

 

at eleven o’clock, changbin and chan will stumble out of their bedroom, sluggishly pulling hoodies over their heads. and, at exactly eleven-oh-five, jisung will emerge from his room cocooned within his duvet.

 

at eleven-oh-seven, 3racha will begin their day.

 

but, today is different.

 

today, woojin wakes up to the sound of the tv playing in the living room. it’s nearly eleven o’clock, he notices as he slips out of his bed and tiptoes slowly over felix’s body. he sees that, in the living room, jeongin and hyunjin lay stretched out on the couch, the elder of the two on his phone as the youngest presses at the remote tiredly, looking for something to watch.

 

he tuts slightly, ready to reprimand them for not wakening him up earlier but he decides against it and, instead, returns to his room to obtain his duvet. when he heads back into the living room, jeongin is staring at him with wide eyes- confused, and woojin only smiles as he lays the duvet over the two younger boys and walks to enter chan and changbin’s shared room, where jisung had resided for the past couple of days.

 

when he enters, changbin is already wide awake. he lies on chan’s bed, the elder fast asleep in changbin’s own, arms cradling jisung as he plays with the younger’s hair lightly. when he notices woojin entering the room, he moves carefully as to not wake jisung up, left hand wrapped reassuringly around the younger rapper’s own.

 

“is he getting any better?” woojin asks worriedly, replacing the cooling pad on jisung’s forehead. they’d bought them for jeongin a few years back- as a joke, but found that they’d used it more for the millennials than they did with the maknae.

 

“his fever’s definitely going down.” changbin sighs, sitting slowly and massaging his temple. “he’ll be able to start practice again soon.”

 

“then, why the long face?”

 

“it’s just-” changbin stops for a moment to rub at his face tiredly, breathing deeply as he stares at jisung’s face. “i’m worried. are we working him too hard? am _i_ working him too hard? if we’d just- just let him have a break once in a while or force him to sleep for longer than a few hours like i do with chan-hyung- do you think he’d be happier? healthier? because right now- and for the past few days, he looks as if he’s encountered death and stared it right in its face.”

 

“bin-ah.” woojin sighs as he moves to sit on the floor next to chan’s bed. “don’t start blaming yourself. jisung works the way he does because he _wants_ to- not because he _needs_ to. he doesn’t work because the company pressures him, nor does he work because you or chan ask him to. he works because he loves doing what he does and it makes him happy- writing, composing, producing. it’s his greatest, most prized asset. and everyone gets sick once in a while- he was out in the freezing cold rain, what do you expect? all we need to do is give it some time, and he’ll be up and chasing felix before you know it.”

 

changbin sighs slowly, hand tightening around jisung’s limp fingers. there’s a few moments of silence as changbin watches jisung’s chest rise and fall, brushing his bangs out of his face and pressing a soft kiss to the younger’s forehead.

 

“i guess you’re right.” he mutters, catching woojin’s soft gaze. “thank you, hyung.”

 

woojin only smiles in return, standing up and ruffling changbin’s hair tenderly before leaving the room with the promise of making jisung something light to eat when he wakes up.

 

* * *

 

at twelve-thirty-five, chan staggers out of his room and into the kitchen with a bucket of warm water and a soggy towel. next to him, changbin holds a bowl of half-eaten porridge and an empty glass that was once filled to the brim with cold water.

 

and behind them, jisung stumbles sluggishly into the room.

 

his steps are slow and fatigued as he moves to sit on the couch, where jeongin is sat. the younger’s eyes visibly brighten when he sees jisung enter the room and he hurries to push a sleeping hyunjin (who had dozed off only a few minutes after woojin had stepped into the room) off the edge of the couch so the duvet-swaddled rapper can lie next him.

 

when the elder rapper is settled, jeongin snuggles closer to jisung’s side. he ignores chan’s tuts from the kitchen and changbin telling him that jisung isn’t “cured” yet and that he still has a little cold that the younger could so easily catch. he ignores the way woojin swats lightly at the back of changbin’s head, telling the rapper that jisung “never needed curing- stop being so dramatic and help me make lunch for the kids,” as they enter the kitchen.

 

jeongin smiles when he feels jisung chuckle against the crown of his head, breathing slow but calm- much unlike the scare the elder had given everyone only a few days before. jeongin remembers it clearly- though he doubts jisung does, because the elder was too worked up and panicked to think straight. chan had told them that it was only a nightmare that caused jisung to freak out so badly, but jeongin had worried constantly after that. he’d sneak into chan and changbin’s room during the night just to see if jisung was sleeping well and peacefully.

 

“are you okay now, hyung?” jeongin asks quietly, only loud enough for jisung to hear.

 

“i’m fine, innie.” jisung’s voice is hoarse from lack of use and it cracks halfway through but jeongin smiles nonetheless and returns his attention to the show he’d been watching on the tv.

 

half an hour later, hyunjin jumps up from where he’d landed on the floor with a snort. jisung, obviously not expecting it, awakens from the short nap he’d taken and snorts loudly in return, a laugh erupting from his chest as he stares at the elder rapper. hyunjin’s glasses are askew and his beanie is no longer on his head. there’s a small trail of drool leading from the corner of his lip to the bottom of his chin and his eyes flutter closed as he groans loudly.

 

“why am i on the floor?” he whines, ready to pull himself up.

 

both jisung and jeongin turn to each other and laugh loudly, pulling out their phones to take pictures of the elder. they ignore the way hyunjin jumps at the sound of their cameras clicking and the way hyunjin lunges at them, entrapping both of them between the leather of the couch and his chest. a loud groan erupts from underneath hyunjin’s body and jeongin is quick to push the elder away, rushing off into his bedroom and leaving jisung to fend for himself.

 

“hey, hyunjin!” jisung exclaims loudly, tears building up in his eyes as he laughs uncontrollably. his phone is held up to his face, obviously videoing hyunjin’s attack. the elder smirks as he squishes jisung’s cheeks with his cold hands, eliciting a wine from the younger rapper. “hyunjin-ah!”

 

“my dearest jisungie- loser hannie,” hyunjin sings, rolling over so he’s lying on jisung’s stomach, legs spread across the couch. he hums quietly to himself for a few seconds, allowing jisung to calm himself down and put his phone away. “jisung-ah, don’t get sick again, hm? my heart hurt a lot seeing you in bed like that.”

 

jisung’s eyes soften as he reaches to run his hands through the elder’s hair, smiling softly as he hums back in return.

 

he thinks, for a moment, of a time not so far back. he thinks of when he and hyunjin, for lack of better words, hated each other. he thinks of all the petty fights and all the childish arguments they had back when they were trainees- and even during the survival show. he thinks of all the times the practice room doors had been slammed shut when a fit of rage erupted from either one of them after countless hours of harsh glares and insults.

 

and, most importantly, he thinks of all the late-night talks. he thinks of hyunjin- soft, weak hearted hyunjin, who became so frustrated with their situation that he wanted to change himself- change who he was so he and jisung wouldn’t fight as often. he thinks of the nights he heard hyunjin crying in the next room over, muffled sobs escaping from the elder’s lips. he thinks of his own pathetic cries, ringing out through the empty dorm, burns decorating his cheeks as he clutches onto hyunjin’s sleeves- begging for comfort, warmth, reassurance.

 

“but, hyunjin-ah,” jisung mutters quietly, muffled by the sound of the tv, “you’ll be fine without me, right?”

 

there’s no reply- only the sound of hyunjin’s soft snores and changbin’s complaining in the kitchen. jisung smiles sadly, hands laying momentarily on top of hyunjin’s head.

 

“you’ll all be fine without me.” he closes his eyes, allowing himself to sink in the quicksand of hyunjin’s warmth. “i’ll make sure of it.”

 

* * *

 

 

the plastic bag in felix’s hand rustles as he pushes the apartment door open with his foot, balancing the groceries and cake box on one arm and his phone in the other.

 

he’d lost a game of rock-paper-scissors with both seungmin and hyunjin on their way out to han river. they’d been planning to go out as four- he, seungmin, hyunjin and jisung- since they’d all turned of age, wanting to do a celebratory vlive. but, since jisung had fallen ill, he’d been unable to make the small trip down to the river, and so they’d postponed the vlive and celebratory picnic in favour of just hanging out. in turn, they’d promised jisung that they’d return with his favourite food (cheesecake and choco pie, of course)- only, felix had been the one to both buy and walk home with the items.

 

(he thinks, for a moment, that he will never play another round of rock-paper-scissors with both seungmin and hyunjin ever again. not if he wants to keep both his dignity and his money.)

 

“ji?” he calls out as he enters the dorm, taking his shoes off and making his way to the kitchen.

 

the dorm is empty, he notes. he recalls jeongin and minho getting ready to go out somewhere together this morning- though he can’t remember exactly where to. he can vaguely remember woojin texting him that he was taking chan and changbin out shopping. he recollects the phone call he’d had with their manager (who’d been in charge of checking up on jisung every once in a while, but ended up getting called into a meeting only ten minutes after everyone had left) on his way to the store, the elder man asking if felix could check up on the still feverish jisung when he’d returned home.

 

“han-ah?” he calls again, turning the corner to the kitchen.

 

he stops when he sees the huddle of blankets leaning back against the cabinets under the stove, chuckling as he makes out jisung’s rosy red cheeks and pink nose under the duvets.

                                    

he’s writing something, felix notices. lyrics, perhaps.

 

he doesn’t try to take a peak, knowing just how precious and personal jisung’s lyrics were to him, so instead, he places the cheesecake box down on the counter above the slightly-elder boy and slides down to sit next to him, shoulders to shoulder.

 

“hey, ji.” he greets. “what’re you doing on the kitchen floor?”

 

jisung looks up and, as he does so, the duvet falls from his head and felix has to stop himself from cooing out loud. the elder is wearing a grey hoodie- hyunjin’s grey hoodie- and his knees are tucked tightly against his chest. the hood falls over his fluffy curled hair, tucked behind his ears comically, and the drawstring is tied tightly so the hood bunches up around his swollen face. his tongue pokes out of his lips slightly- as it always does when he’s writing, and his nose wrinkles faintly.

 

“i don’t really know.” jisung yawns slightly and felix frowns, brushing his hand over the elder’s forehead to feel for his temperature. changbin had told them that his fever was going down, so why was he still so warm?

 

“’lix,” jisung mutters softly, closing his notebook (felix has never seen this one before- it’s tidy and neat, much unlike all of his other lyric books; it must be a new one, he thinks) and bringing a sweater paw up to bring felix’s hand down to his knees, “i’m fine, really. i just- got inspiration when i went to get a glass of water. i’m okay, i promise.”

 

felix frowns again but sighs when jisung pouts in return, cheeks protruding cutely. “okay, i got you this cheesecake and some choco pie. seungmin and hyunjin should be coming back soon so why don’t we have a head start on finishing them before the hyungs and innie come home, hm?”

 

the way jisung’s eyes light up is enough to make felix smile brightly. the elder holds as many stars in his eyes as the night sky does- maybe more. and felix wishes that he could make jisung smile for the rest of his life, even if it meant the night sky lost a few stars to the abyss of constellations in his twin’s eyes.

 

“’lix,” jisung gasps, taking the hood off his head and grasping the counter as he lifts himself up off the floor, abandoning his notebook on the counter top. “did you really?”

 

he gasps again when felix nods and surges forward, letting the duvet (chan’s) drop onto the floor and wrapping his hands around the younger. his lips brush against felix’s cheek in a chaste kiss, giggling when the australian pinches at his waist slightly. felix laughs in return, tickling jisung’s sides before pulling the younger into a tighter hug against the counter.

 

felix smiles as he buries his face into jisung’s warm neck. he can smell jeongin’s cologne on jisung’s collarbone, left from when their youngest had snuggled up next to jisung in the morning. it’s sweet, mixing with jisung’s own scent, and felix can’t help but breathe it in slowly, feeling relaxed and safe in the arms of his september twin.

 

felix remembers when he’d first entered jyp. it was his first time leaving australia without his family, and, frankly, he was terrified. they’d told him he was going to be paired with another australian- chris, or chan, that had been living in korea for years before. they’d also told him he’d be training with a few other boys that were the same age as him. that had scared him the most, knowing but not knowing at the same time. so, when he’d stepped into the jyp building for the first time, and was greeted by another hyperactive chubby-cheeked trainee, he didn’t know what to expect.

 

jisung had wrapped him up in the tightest hug he’d ever experienced, screaming foreign greetings into his ears and shrieking about how happy he was to gain a new trainee- friend, _brother_. jisung had pulled away with a grin on his face, corners of his lips disappearing into the puff of his cheeks. he’d grabbed felix’s hand and pulled him towards the other trainees, soothing the new-comer with sweet words, promises that held every ounce of conviction he’d possessed.

 

and, because of jisung, he’d managed his first day at jyp. because of jisung, he’d made it through all the nerve-wracking introductions and awkward first practices. because of jisung, he’d become close to changbin- the scary hyung that stayed alongside jisung and chan only, the hyung that emitted an aura that made him unapproachable- cold. because of jisung, he’d been able to pick up korean so much quicker, the elder switching to english whenever he stumbled over his words.

 

so, it was no wonder felix had thought jisung was one of the older trainees. his hug that day had been warm- comforting. his body had been so much smaller, shorter, than felix’s own, but the way his arms had wrapped around the younger had made felix feel safe, like he was in the arms of an older brother or even his father back home in australia.

 

right now, as he pushes jisung’s head into his own neck, he wishes to provide the slightly-elder boy the same amount of love and affection he’d been given every day since he’d entered jyp.

 

“of course, i did, ji.” he whispers, caressing the small tufts of jisung’s hair, “anything for you.”

 

* * *

 

 

when seungmin and hyunjin return home, felix is fast asleep on the couch, cartoons playing on the tv. there are sweet wrappers littering the floor and an empty cake box lying beside felix’s head, spoon dangling from his limp fingers.

 

seungmin tuts as he shakes his head, switching the tv off. hyunjin takes a moment to snap a few pictures of the younger australian, chuckling as he takes selfies beside felix’s snoring face, before tucking the blanket under the younger’s chin and cooing at the way felix brushes a hand over his face.

 

“hyunjin-ah,” seungmin whispers, eyes glancing towards the sliding doors that lead to the balcony, “jisung’s outside.”

 

“outside?” hyunjin asks, rising to his feet. “it’s cold out. doesn’t he still have a fever?”

 

“i don’t know- but he seems busy. i think he’s writing lyrics.”

 

hyunjin tilts his head to the side curiously, before motioning for the younger to follow him outside.

 

jisung is sat against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around his knees, which are tucked into his chest. balancing on top of his knees lies a single notebook, pages dancing in the soft breeze as he writes. at his feet is a muddle of polaroid pictures.

 

“hey ji.” hyunjin greets, taking a seat at the younger’s left as seungmin does the same on his right. “what’re you doing?”

 

“writing,” jisung answers, sticking a tongue out at hyunjin’s deadpan stare. “they’re ideas for songs,” he adds, “the polaroids give me inspiration.”

 

seungmin hums, picking up a random polaroid. it’s one of jeongin sleeping, face pressed against the couch. his mouth is wide open, a small line of drool dripping from the corner of his lip. “what inspiration did you get from this?”

 

jisung glimpses at the picture before scanning the pages of his notebook. _“over there, it’s waiting for me. the twenty-year-old me is waiting. why does it feel so fast like this? my day. if i just count to three now, i wish everything would disappear like a dream, and i would go back to then.”_

 

“ji,” hyunjin whispers, eyes scanning the page to read the rest of the lyrics written on the page. “you’re- you’re a genius. these lyrics- they’re so meaningful and so- so unapologetically you. how do you do it? how do you write such amazing stuff just by looking at innie sleeping?”

 

“it’s easy,” jisung smiles, fingers trailing across the ink. he picks up another polaroid- this time of all nine of them, taken on the day it had been announced that they’d debut as nine.

 

“jeongin is growth. he’s the transition from child to adult. he’s wanting time to go back and youth- hebe, the goddess of youth and the prime of life. he’s sparkling eyes and soft grins. he’s tiny giggles under blankets and the little marshmallows you get in hot chocolate. he’s reassurance and support.”

 

“woojin-hyung is newly-blossomed trees. he’s bungee-jumping and warm hugs. he’s soft words and honey-like vocals. the smell of newly-washed laundry and the taste of freshly made pastries. he’s teddy bears and cuddly toys. he’s aspiration and wishes.”

 

“chan-hyung is the flowers that decorate nature. he’s old books and letters, the epitome of hard work and patience. he’s the sound of music that filters through earphones and the tunes that boom through loudspeakers. he’s keyboards and pianos. he’s nostalgia and leadership, determination and passion.”

 

“minho-hyung is peaceful streets. he’s cat treats and small snacks. he’s trainers squeaking against the practice room floors and hands dancing as he talks. he’s weird filters and loud noises and random confessions. he’s wishes on falling stars and genies in bottles. he’s moving on and revolution.”

 

“changbinnie is street corners. he’s piercings and tattoos and bitter coffee and graffiti. he’s arcades and passageways, desire and fortitude. he’s thick blankets and cartoon toys, whines and pouts. he’s stage lights and rehearsals. he’s computer screens and notebooks filled to the brim of lyrics and melodies. he’s change and contrast.”

 

“hyunjin-ah,” jisung turns to look at the older boy, “you’re the moon. you’re crescent smiles and meteor showers. you’re late night talks and city whispers and streetlights and walks in the dark. you’re early winter mornings and the smell of hot chocolate next to a fireplace. you’re rebellion and safety wrapped into one.”

 

“seungminnie,” his head turns to look at the younger, “you’re the stars. the constellations, the skies. you’re dances in the rain and late spring afternoons. you’re music boxes and new melodies, guitars and microphones. you’re paintings on canvas and ink on paper. you’re art galleries and exhibitions and models and statues. you’re calmness, peace, reconciliation.”

 

“felix is the sun. he’s rainbows and daisies, dancing in the wind. he’s playing tag in the meadows and dancing barefoot in the summer fields. he’s flowers blooming and birds chirping in the summer sun. he’s sunrises and sunsets and honey bees and the colour yellow. he’s love and hope.”

 

“and you’re home, jisung.” hyunjin whispers. “you’re cartoons playing in the background of sleepy whispers and under silk sheets. you’re vanilla-scented candles and chocolate cakes and the scent of coffee during rehearsals. you’re fairgrounds and carousels and ferris wheels, loud laughs and quiet chuckles in one. you’re lyrics and compositions and piano sheets and music.”

 

“you’re family.” seungmin concludes, handing jisung the polaroid lying next to his foot. it’s a picture of them- the millennials, in the practice rooms. hyunjin stands in the forefront of the picture, eyes shaped into crescent moons. behind him, felix’s head sits on top of hyunjin’s shoulder, fingers poking at the eldest’s dimples. in the background of the picture, seungmin and jisung are crouched on the floor, the elder rapper hugging the vocalist from behind. below the picture is one word, an english word, written in bold capitals.

 

**_home._ **

 

jisung smiles softly, clutching his notebook to his chest tightly. it’s silent for a few moments before he feels a warm hand caressing his cheek. it takes him a second to realise he’s crying, tears burning his skin as hyunjin wipes them away carefully.

 

“oh, jisungie. why are you crying?” he whispers, pushing the younger’s head into the crook of his neck. “don’t cry.”

 

seungmin smiles softly, placing a hand on the small of jisung’s back as he moves to engulf the two into a warm hug.

 

“we’re family.” jisung repeats. “all nine of us,” jisung’s voice shakes slightly, sweater paws clutching both of their hands tightly.

 

“we’re family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [say hi!](https://twitter.com/jiskies)   
> 


	4. special.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jisung has always been able to see through him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: depictions of falling, mentions of blood and injury

_every moment we’re together is special._

it occurs to felix, one night, that maybe jisung is an enigma.

 

he’s smart in that way- he tells stories in a way that makes it seem like you know everything about him, but, in reality, they don’t tell you a single thing. he’s mysterious- conniving. in fact, there are only a handful of personal things that felix knows about his elder twin- things that haven’t been revealed to the public already.

 

it occurs to felix when he’s sat in the recording studio, listening to 3racha’s demo of one of their new songs. maze of memories, it’s called- written and composed majorly by their little producing trio. they’re alone in the studio, the elder helping felix with his pronunciation and translating the challenging metaphors into english.

 

“i think we can record your part with the hyungs when they get back if you’re up to it, ‘lix.” jisung says, watching as the australian reads through the lyrics and mouths some of the words.

 

felix nods in response, eyes trained to the words on the page. he reads through jisung’s rap again, amazed by the flow and meaning of the lyrics. “did you write your rap part, ji? how long did it take you?”

 

jisung looks up, smacking his lips together as he thinks. “fifteen minutes, maybe? why, is it bad? chan-hyung said it was good but if you aren’t really feeling it, i can change it.”

 

felix stares at him, shock painted all over his face. “no- no, ji. it’s amazing, i promise. i’m just surprised. this is like a- a lyrically complex masterpiece.”

 

jisung snorts, turning away to mess with the arrangement on the screen of his computer. “thanks, but i can’t take all the credit. chan-hyung and changbin did a lot too and by this time tomorrow, you and all the others will be playing a huge part in this song.”

 

felix tuts quietly, “i guess- but, i mean, listen to your rap. _my mind burns and fills with_ _question marks, blaming myself. now i’m running for an answer i can’t even see_ _._ _running on my mind, i’m feeling even more frustrated. this is a fight for my tomorrow. right now, i feel like i’ve seen the future from yesterday_ _._ _i’m putting on a smile, letting out a sigh_ _. it_ _feels like i’m looking at myself_ _-_ _a momentary silence._ ”

 

the younger looks up from the page, noticing the way jisung seems to have tensed, body frozen and fingers dangling above the keyboard. he cocks his head to the side, confused, and hastily continues talking. “like, what gave you inspiration for all this?”

 

there’s a moment of silence between them and felix has to physically stop himself from talking more, afraid of saying the wrong thing. his chin rests on his palm, leaning on the edge of the couch he’s sitting on. with his other hand, he grips the lyric sheet awkwardly, playing with the edges.

 

it’s a few seconds before jisung begins talking, fingers pressing rapidly at his keyboard. “just- past experiences, i guess.”

 

he doesn’t say much more than that and felix doesn’t pry.

 

really, he’s desperate to know about what jisung could’ve experienced for him to produce such complex lyrics but he knows it’s not his place; jisung will tell him when he’s ready. and he’s okay with that- really. but it’s at that moment that felix realises that he doesn’t really know much about jisung’s personal life. they all know about each other’s childhoods in great depth- even to the point where seungmin can name the ice cream hyunjin ate on his first day of being in america when he was a kid. however, felix realises that jisung hasn’t really spoken about his past- at all. they know the basics- his parents are well-off, he has an older brother, he lived and studied in an international school in malaysia, he left to take an exam and never went back. but really, that’s all they know about his past.

 

it occurs to felix, that night, that maybe jisung is an enigma.

 

* * *

 

chan groans as he stretches his back, saving his composition hurriedly before turning around to face the two younger members of 3racha.

 

changbin is sitting on his bed, playing around with some new beats and reworking the broken compass composition. beside him, jisung is sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes focused solely on his laptop as he works on 19, tongue sticking out from the corner of his lips and headphones placed messily over his ruffled hair.

 

“i’ve finished entrance.” chan announces, yawning as he looks over at the clock. “ah, it’s nearly three. do you guys want to head to bed soon? we have practice later.”

 

changbin startles as he looks up at the clock himself, saving his own work before shutting his computer. “i didn’t realise so much time had passed,” he mutters, placing his computer on the desk and stretching his arm, “hyung, i’ve finished with rearranging broken compass- all we need to do now is record and arrange.”

 

jisung doesn’t even look up from his laptop when he speaks, fingers pressing insistently on the trackpad. “i’ve finished 19 too,” he says, “i just need help on the arrangement and it’s done.” he breathes a sigh of relief as he presses at his trackpad one last time before closing the laptop, taking his headphones off and stretching his neck to look up at the ceiling.

 

“i can’t believe that this is the fifth album we’ve produced,” changbin marvels, leaning against the wall.

 

“plus, three mixtapes,” chan adds, laying on his bed and pulling jisung up to join him. “and, two singles as 3racha and one as stray kids.”

 

“we’ve been busy,” jisung hums, amused. his voice is muffled by chan’s chest, pressed tightly against the elder as his eyes flutter closed. “really busy.”

 

chan laughs- a low rumble that shakes jisung but ultimately doesn’t stop him from drifting off. the elder smiles, pressing a hand against jisung’s forehead, looking for the tell-tale signs of his remaining fever. when he finds none, he moves to gather the duvet in his hands, pulling it up over their bodies.

 

he watches as changbin moves to turn off the light, hears the younger shuffle towards his bed. he hears it creak before there’s silence again.

 

“i’m really proud of us, you know.”

 

chan is almost half-asleep when he hears it. jisung’s words are slurred, drowsy from lack of sleep as he starts to ramble. “like, i’m proud of all of us- as stray kids. but i’m also really proud of _3racha_. i mean, do you remember when we used to write lyrics like, _‘we’re gonna make it someday’_ and now we _have_ made it. and i just can’t believe that we’re here, as producers, composers, writers, idols. hyung, we have _fans_.”

 

“yes, we do, ji.” chan chuckles tiredly at jisung’s drowsy realisation, running a hand through his hair. “i’m proud of us too,” he mutters, eyes drifting shut.

 

he almost doesn’t hear it when changbin replies himself- a small, “me too,” that echoes around the room. he smiles, tugging their youngest closer and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of his head. “really proud.”

 

* * *

 

five pm finds jeongin stood in their practice room.

 

half of them are taking a break from rehearsing the choreography of victory song, clad in sweatpants and thin tank tops as their shoes squeak against the wood on their way to the couches. upstairs, the other half are finishing recording their designated parts for mixtape 4. the song drifts in through the open door, and jeongin can vaguely hear felix’s low voice travel through the walls.

 

he groans as he collapses on the couch, head resting on the mountain of bags and coats sitting on the edge. he kicks his feet playfully at seungmin, who threatens to lay on top of him, and laughs when the elder pouts, moving to bother hyunjin instead.

 

there’s a few moments of silence for everyone to rest and look through their phones, a few moments jeongin takes to nap quietly. his eyes fall shut and he shifts slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position when a loud smack erupts throughout the dance studio. he jumps up curiously, tutting when he finds a notebook on the floor, open at the middle page. he picks it up by the spine and flips it over, recognising jisung’s messy handwriting amongst the scribbles and doodles.

 

“did he leave it here?” he questions, flicking to the last entry. the page is almost barren when he gets to it- completely contrasting with the rest of the book. the entry starts in the middle, a small, unfinished ‘ _to,’_ scrawled on the top. his eyes flicker to the first sentence and widen as he reads it.

 

_\- in the end, you will forget my face, and my voice, the stories i tell, and the way i rapped, the way i sang and the way i used to do things -_

 

jeongin tilts his head to the side oddly, biting his lip as he traces his fingers over the neatly written words on the opened page of the notebook. he clicks his tongue quietly and shakes his head. despite his curiosity, he knows where the boundaries are and knows not to cross them. even more so because, lately, jisung’s been extremely protective over his possessions, especially his lyric books. so, he closes the notebook and places it neatly back onto the edge of the couch, joining minho as the elder begins to stretch again.

 

 _it’s probably just a new song idea,_ he thinks, _yeah,_ _a song idea._

* * *

 

minho is just about ready to bang his head against the wall. repeatedly.

 

it’s half past midnight and he’s running through the choreography for miroh again. he knows he’s not supposed to be here- they’d made a pact long ago, back when they’d wake up and find members collapsed on the dance room floor, exhausted and worn out from overwork. the last time, it had been hyunjin, who’d fainted and hit his head on the hardwood floor- so much so that he’d had to go to the clinic. since then, they’d all travelled home together after practice- bar from 3racha, who’d only move upstairs to the recording booths with the promise of coming home later in the night- or earlier in the morning, whenever they finished.

 

minho had promised to get back to the dorms before the clock struck one, determined to perfect his moves. chan had been sceptical at first, eyebrows raised in apprehension as he leant back against the glass. “i’ll be fine,” minho had said, rolling his eyes at the leader’s worry, “honestly, i’ll drop by the studio before i leave- maybe get you guys to come back home too.” and chan had snorted, clapping his hands on the younger’s shoulder with a look that can only be described as stern, telling him not to overdo it before following jisung and changbin down the corridor.

 

so now, minho sits against the glass of the slightly ajar window. his joints burn and ache and sweat trickles down his cheek and he has half a mind to switch off the music blasting through the speakers- but, deep down, he knows he has to keep going. if he can’t get this right, how can he call himself main dancer?

 

he grits his teeth as he stands, cracking his back as he does so. just as the song reaches the chorus, he moves to the centre of the room, staring at himself through the mirror. the eye bags decorate his cheeks like bruises and he feels his nose wrinkle sourly under the facemask he has on. he tuts and pulls it off his face, throwing it to the side as he jumps into the dance quickly- too quickly.

 

minho hears himself yelp, eyes screwing closed as his body turns. his ankle throbs, burning red and he has to stop himself from crying out loudly. he raises his arms up, bracing himself for impact. time seems distorted now- the tick of the clock slowing, but his heart beats fast, quick against his chest. he lands on his back, breath knocked out of his chest and he suffocates, chest burning with the fire of a thousand suns. his head stings against the floor and his temple burns. when he brings his hand up to his head, he clutches at something sticky- crimson. his eyes blur before white spots dance in his vision, blinding him. he feels his ankle pulse and, all of a sudden, changbin is holding his face and jisung is by his side but his head only drops further into chan’s lap before everything goes dark.

 

_\- here to change it. -_

 

when minho opens his eyes, his head rests on something soft. blood runs down his face but when he reaches out to brush it away, his hand comes back clear- clean. he blinks blindly, starting to sit up. he’s still in the dance studio, clad in his sweatpants and oversized shirt. miroh plays in the background, having been on repeat since everyone had left and he startles, placing a hand on his chest as he breathes. when his eyes catch his own figure in the mirror, he blanches because there’s no blood, no bruise on the back of his head where he’s sure he’d landed. his eyes travel down his body and he flinches, turning- because jisung is lying on the floor where his head had landed.

 

“jisung?” he almost screams, scrambling to kneel next to the younger boy. “how- what are you doing here?”

 

“hyung?” jisung opens his eyes, blinking slowly. “are you okay? i saw you fall.”

 

minho stutters, gently grazing his head along jisung’s cheek before helping the other to sit up. “i’m fine. are _you_ okay? did you catch me?”

 

the younger nods, clutching his notebook to his chest. his backpack is slung against his shoulder, and he reaches to adjust it on his back before standing. minho tilts his head curiously before his eyes travel to the door, wide open and swinging in the wind. “did you run all the way from the studio to get here?”

 

jisung seems to hesitate as he answers, fidgeting with his notebook as he stands. he shrugs slowly, “i was just on my way out. wanted to check up on you.”

 

minho smiles in return. of course, he thinks, because jisung is selfless and caring like that. even to people years older than him, he will always be the one to check up on them. minho would need more than both his hands to count how many times jisung has offered to check up on their seniors, or their elder producers and choreographers.

 

“are you the hyung?” minho jokes, standing himself up. his voice is shaky, though, and he curses. he still sees himself on the floor, skin stained crimson and he shivers discreetly but it doesn’t go unnoticed by the younger rapper-

 

“what’s wrong?”

 

-because jisung has always been able to see through him.

 

“i don’t-” minho sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. “-know. i just- my head. it was bleeding. like, really bleeding. it was all over the floor. and i think i twisted my ankle or something but it feels fine now?” his intonation raises, almost like a question rather than a statement. “i couldn’t breathe. and- and changbin was holding my face and you were trying to stop the bleeding and then- i don’t know, i blacked out.”

 

“minho-hyung,” jisung holds his cheeks tightly, squishing them between his hands. minho catches sight of the little pout of his face- the lines of worry drawn on his skin. “you’re okay, hyung. i caught you- you aren’t bleeding, your ankle is okay, you’re breathing well. i promise, hyung.”

 

minho looks at him with wide eyes, willing himself not to cry. the thought of him hurting himself is enough to make his heart beat erratically, but the thought of one of the younger members finding him bleeding out on the practice room floor early in the morning does nothing to soothe his panic. what would he have done if it were felix to find his body? seungmin? jeongin? what would he have said if jisung had come to check up on him, only to see crimson? he breathes heavily, slowly, and tries not to panic.

 

the look on jisung’s face softens slowly and he pulls the elder into a hug. minho sighs shakily- because jisung always makes him feel calm and safe, and he urges himself to hug the younger close to his chest for comfort.

 

he lets himself sink into the security of his soulmate, pressing his face into the brunet locks and breathing deeply once again- calm, quiet. it’s then that he notices the silence around them- miroh is no longer playing and the sounds of the neighbouring room are muted. it’s just them, minho and jisung, curled up around one another, listening to the silent rhythm of their heartbeats.

 

deep down, minho shakes with the thought of his body lying on the floor, bleeding out and unable to call for help- but, then, jisung tugs him tighter, closer, softer, and the vision dissipates as soon as it came.

 

because with jisung, minho is at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [say hi!](https://twitter.com/jiskies)   
> 


	5. destiny.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> woojin feels responsible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for sara.
> 
> warning: mentions of depression

_i hoped to have a destined future with you._

woojin hums mindlessly as he browses through the contents of their cabinets. it’s a small tune, drifting through the air quietly. he doesn’t know what song it is but the melody plays repeatedly in his mind and he finds himself murmuring as he gets started on breakfast.

 

it’s still too early for everyone else to be up, considering they’d gotten home late after rehearsals and their schedules don’t start until midday, but woojin had been woken up by the sound of jisung working in the living room, fingers dancing along the keyboard of his computer as he tapped his foot against the hardwood floor.

 

upon finding the younger earlier in the morning, woojin had slid in the small space beside the rapper and wrapped his arms around the latter’s slim waist. “how long have you been up?” he’d asked, watching as jisung edited the composition on his laptop. the younger had only shrugged in return, eyes trained on the screen as he pulled his headphones down to his neck. a wave of worry had washed over woojin, his eyes taking in the bags under jisung’s own. he brushed the dark discolouring on his cheeks and sighed at how much weight the younger had lost. he’d carefully pressed a small kiss to the side of jisung’s head before announcing that he’d get a start on breakfast.

 

“hey, ji?” woojin calls out, sticking his head out of the doorway to glance at the younger swaddled in his duvet on the couch. the younger hums absentmindedly, pulling one of his headphones off to rest behind his ear. “are you sure you don’t want to head back and try to sleep a bit more?”

 

“i’m fine, hyung!” jisung replies, but his eyes droop slowly and he has to stifle a yawn with the sleeve of his oversized jumper.

 

woojin tuts slightly, placing all of his attention on the stove as he heats up the pan in his hand. as the oil sizzles, he starts humming again. he recognises the song almost immediately- it’s jisung’s predebut solo. he’d been listening to 3racha’s old tracks the night before and, for some reason, i see had stuck in his head the rest of the night.

 

woojin remembers very clearly when jisung wrote i see. it had been the day after one of their monthly evaluations- jisung had been struck with writers’ block for nearly a week and couldn’t come up with a way to start producing his solo. as a result, he hadn’t prepared for the evaluation and, subsequently, worked himself into a panic. woojin remembers jisung’s breakdown after the evaluation. he remembers watching jisung cling to chan almost immediately after jyp had left the room, not crying but still shaking against the australian’s side.

 

that night, with woojin and chan by his side, jisung had called his mother. it was late- malaysia was only an hour behind, and the younger wasn’t really expecting anyone to pick up, so when the soft voice of his mother filtered into his ear, he’d burst out crying. woojin had held him close to his chest, chan softly patting his back as he cried to his mother- cried about how hard it was in korea, how tough training was, how _tired_ he was.

 

_“if it’s too hard, you can stop any time. it’s okay.”_

and jisung had thought about it- thought about going back to his home in malaysia; to his mother and father and brother, to his childhood friends, to his old school. he thought about going back to a time when he could eat and do and live whatever and however he wanted to, freely. but then, he thought about the life he would leave behind. his bandmates, his brothers, his passion. he thought about going back to study without fully trying to fulfil his dream. he thought about disappointment and regret and _guilt_.

 

the next day, woojin recalls chan telling him (because when woojin had left the dorms to return home, jisung was still on the phone to his mother, no longer crying but visibly distressed), jisung had woken up with a fire in his eyes and caffeine running through his veins. at their early morning practice, he’d already written half of the song and by the time dinner had arrived, he was already asking for help from chan and the company producers.

 

woojin thinks that maybe that was the time he really started to admire and appreciate the younger. it was unusual- because jisung was three years younger and already had the weight of the world on his shoulders. and yet, he looked up to woojin with the softest doe eyes, wide and asking for answers to the most intricate questions. his cheeks would swell up whenever woojin moved to pinch them, or whenever he was fed the elder’s homemade cooking. his mouth would pluck and pinch and let out the most random sounds and, suddenly, woojin doesn’t know how he ever managed to make it through his trainee period without wanting to hold the younger close to his chest forever.

 

now, watching as jisung glares at his laptop screen, tongue sticking out from the corner of his lips, woojin supresses the urge to throw himself onto the couch like he did when they were shooting hellevator. he tuts quietly when jisung yawns again, shaking his head when the younger’s eyes waver slightly. in all honestly, if he could, he would force the producer back into bed.

 

woojin didn’t stray far from the father-figure he was often depicted as- and, jisung had once said he had a fatherly feel, almost as if he was the rapper’s own father. and because of this, woojin feels responsible. chan may be their leader, but woojin is the eldest- the one they go to with their problems and worries, for comfort and reassurance. he was the one to check up on everyone if they were feeling ill or homesick or even just a little bit nervous and insecure.

 

despite this, jisung had been a constant in his life. from the very moment woojin had stepped into the jyp trainee practice room, jisung had been there for him. chan was his best friend- his closest friend, but jisung was his little brother. he was the youngest of the early tight-knit family that was 3racha, and woojin had thought that he would have trouble getting through to the younger due to his lack of knowledge of how things at jyp worked. it wasn’t anything like sm, after all- he didn’t know anyone there, didn’t have jungwoo by his side, didn’t know who had trained the most and who had trained the least. and yet, jisung had skipped towards him from across the large room and promised, with as much conviction as he could possibly possess, that woojin would fit right in and feel at home with them because _we’re your family now hyung, we protect each other._

 

and so, woojin feels responsible.

 

it’s his self-proclaimed duty to uphold what jisung had said that day. to protect. to love. to make sure everyone slept at an appropriate time, to make sure everyone ate all their meals and vitamins, to make sure everyone dressed warmly in the cold winter nights, to make sure everyone felt part of their little family- just as jisung had done with him.

 

which is why his heart tugs so harshly at the sight of jisung working himself to death. he’d seen his younger brothers collapse and hurt too many times (vaguely remembers getting the call from one of the staff members during their trainee period saying that the elder had carried jisung on his back to the hospital. overwork, he’d said). he’d seen them cry out from bruises decorating their skin and aches not visible to the human eye. he’d seen the emotional turmoil and mental pain they put themselves through every day, and it hurt him.

 

so, when woojin glances back into the living room, and finds jisung tipped on his side against the armrest, laptop lying against his thigh as he snores, fast asleep, he can’t help the smile that decorates his face.

 

* * *

 

they’re in their dressing room when it happens.

 

jeongin is lying on the picnic mat, scrolling lazily through his phone. beside him, hyunjin is fast asleep, snoring lightly and quietly. they still have another hour until they’re set to perform so they’re really just resting or catching up with the other idols that they spot in the corridors.

 

jeongin looks up when the door opens and their manager stumbles in, plastic bags hanging heavily from his arms. chan laughs loudly and offers to help but the elder man only groans in response and sets the bags down onto the ground.

 

“where are the rest of the kids?”

 

he’s referring to jisung, changbin and minho- of course, because they’d ran off almost as soon as they were all settled into the dressing room. unusual for the elder two; they’d normally be the first to jump at the chance of taking a quick nap before a performance.

 

(nobody mentions that it’s because of jisung- it’s always because of jisung.)

 

when jeongin drags his body to the table in front of their manager, he shakes his head and lets woojin answer the manager, sliding into the seat adjacent to seungmin and bumping shoulders with the elder september boy.

 

“what is it today, hyung?” he asks, rubbing a hand over his face.

 

seungmin hums, picking up a bag and peering inside, “chicken.”

 

jeongin smiles at woojin’s delighted scream, waking up hyunjin and jolting awake felix, who had been napping on the windowsill. the elder millennial is quick to stand from his spot in the ground, sluggishly dragging felix by the hand to the table where the other boys sit at. jeongin chuckles at felix’s dishevelled hair and watches as woojin coos at the red lines decorating hyunjin’s face from where he’d slept on his sleeve.

 

felix lazily reaches for his food and passes around the containers, stuffing his face with a spoonful of rice as he does so. he mumbles around the rice, speaking words that only chan seems to understand because the elder quietly answers in return.

 

it’s quiet as the manager hands out the rest of the food, the only sound being the hairdryer and the faint sound of the make-up artists talking in the background.

 

jeongin hums to himself quietly, taking the lid off his own container and picking his chopsticks up. he pauses for a second as he answers felix’s questions and laughs at seungmin, who doesn’t seem to notice the grain of rice decorating his chin.

 

a small hum of conversation echoes throughout the room before the door slams open and everything falls into silence.

 

“jeongin, don’t eat that.”

 

jeongin looks up, confused. jisung has somehow appeared in front of him, standing with his hands resting on the table. the youngest catches sight of the door swinging behind jisung, minho peeking his head through. he looks at the elder dancer, who shrugs his shoulders in return, before looking back at the youngest 3racha member, who has already thrown the chicken back into the empty plastic bag.

 

“why?” seungmin chews curiously, finally noticing the rice decorating his chin and rubbing it off with his napkin. “what’s wrong with it?”

 

“it’s gone off- look, there’s a bit of mould on the edge of the container.” jisung answers as various conversations start again, attention turning back to whatever was happening before, “here, have mine.”

 

jeongin stares at jisung’s face as he places another plastic container onto the table, the elder boy’s lips quivering and eyes wavering. he’s out of breath- jeongin notes, like he’d ran a mile to get to him. it’s strange, jeongin thinks, because he’s seen jisung tired out and tense before but nothing could ever compare to the fear in the rapper’s eyes as he passes the youngest another meal box.

 

“hyung,” jeongin’s voice is close to a whisper as he speaks, “hyung, calm down. you’re shaking.”

 

jisung, true to jeongin’s word, is shaking. his hands twitch and fidget and it’s almost as if he’s trying to control his breathing with the way his mouth stutters as he breathes. he nervously brushes his fingertips through his bangs and allows his lips to form a tense smile.

 

unfortunately for him, jeongin doesn’t buy it.

 

“hyung-”

 

before jeongin has a chance to speak, however, changbin is barrelling into the room with minho right behind him, shouting about something that catches jisung’s attention rather quickly. before he knows it, the elder rapper is bouncing to the other side of the room, laughing loudly as changbin talks.

 

jeongin stares at the smaller figure even as he settles on the couch across from chan and beside felix, watching with apprehension as the two rappers sneakily douse chan’s rice with as much soy sauce as they can when they think he isn’t looking. the leader indulges in the twin’s antics and takes a few bites of the rice, pulling faces of faux disgust as he does so.

 

“jeongin, are you not going to eat?”

 

the younger hums at woojin’s question, turning back to the plastic container in front of him and hesitantly lifting his chopsticks up. he glances back at jisung for a second, but that second is enough for him to catch the september boy off guard.

 

because, for that split second, jisung isn’t smiling.

 

felix has left his side to steal food from changbin’s lunch and chan has seemingly gone to get a glass of water from the water dispenser outside and jisung isn’t smiling. instead, his eyebrows are furrowed, knitted together above his eyes. he’s staring at nothing, eyes glazed with thought and his lips are turned downwards into a frown. his usual flare and sunshine isn’t there, and jeongin knows that sometimes the sun needs to burn out, but this is… different.

 

this isn’t jisung.

 

vaguely, he thinks of the lyrics he’d read from jisung’s notebook a few days before. frankly, the words had worried him slightly. he knows- they all know, about jisung’s experiences with depression and insecurity, both past and present. he knows that, occasionally, jisung will slip into the mind-set that whatever he’s doing isn’t good enough and he would release this pent-up frustration by writing- writing to avoid, to forget and to understand. understand why- why he’d beat himself up over the most minuscule of details, why he’d listen to antis about all his flaws and mistakes, why he’d focus so hard on what went wrong instead of what went right.

 

and that’s fine, jeongin thinks, because it isn’t hurting anyone. it’s an outlet for jisung, and jeongin has to respect that. it is one of the more healthier ways to deal with his emotions and problems and jeongin _understands_ that.

 

but-

 

_\- in the end, you will forget my face, and my voice, the stories i tell, and the way i rapped, the way i sang and the way i used to do things -_

 

why do the words worry him so much?

 

he glimpses at the lyricist once again and, as quickly as it came, the frown on his face dissipates and jisung is skipping across the room to hyunjin, who has already spread himself out against the floor. he pitches his voice higher and sings something about getting coffee as he rubs at hyunjin’s belly.

 

jeongin huffs quietly and turns his attention back to his food. he doesn’t end up eating much before they’re called onstage but either way, he can’t find it in him to care.

 

something is wrong with jisung- and he’s going to find out what.

 

* * *

 

felix is bored.

 

they’re at the dorms now, because their schedules for the day have finished. well, excluding 3racha, who have barricaded themselves into changbin, woojin and felix’s shared room (they’d swapped roommates a few days before the comeback and felix had lost a rock-paper-scissors match against jeongin and seungmin over who has to house 3racha when they choose to produce in the dorms. honestly, felix swears, he’s never playing rock-paper-scissors again because, no matter how good they might say he is, he can never seem to win against seungmin). felix and woojin had, since they’d gotten back, been banished from their own room. the eldest had taken it upon himself to accompany the two youngest to the convenience store and minho is flipping through the channels of the tv lazily.

 

and so, felix is bored.

 

“hyung,” he starts, peeling his cheese stick and dangling a string of it above his lips, “hyung.”

 

he whines when minho doesn’t reply, kicking the elder’s legs off his lap. minho grunts heavily and heaves himself up into a sitting position, finally deciding on a random cartoon channel. “felix,” his voice is pitched annoyingly and funnily enough for felix to snort in return, “what’s up?”

 

“i’m bored.”

 

minho tuts, turning his attention back to the tv screen. “why don’t you go annoy jisung then?”

 

felix pouts, stuffing cheese into his mouth. “and disturb whatever is going on in there? no, thank you. plus, ji’s been acting a bit weird lately.”

 

“weird? weirder than normal?”

 

felix chuckles slightly, smacking minho’s shoulder in an attempt to defend his september twin. “hey! jisung and i are literally two in one; calling him weird would mean i’m weird too.”

 

“not too far from the truth then.” felix smacks him. hard. “i’m joking! anyway, you said jisung’s been acting weird?”

 

felix thinks for a moment, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. “yeah. he’s writing more than usual and he’s been… distant. jeongin told me earlier that he accidentally read through jisung’s writing book and one of the lines or lyrics, or whatever, really worried him. i don’t know, it might just be me.”

 

minho hums. “what did the line say?”

 

felix sighs, looking towards the tv this time. “jeongin didn’t say but i’m guessing it was pretty serious if he’s worried enough to have to confide in someone else. i mean, you know how jisung gets with these things. it’s scary because he’s such a good actor; i never truly know what he’s feeling. i feel like that makes me a bad friend, you know? i don’t know how to help him in situations where he won’t even acknowledge that something is wrong.”

 

in all honesty, felix knows that he’s thinking irrationally. never in a million years would jisung consider him a bad friend, especially after everything they’ve gone through together. jisung had been the first one to hug him when he returned from elimination, he’d been the one to comfort and support him and the one who encouraged him through everything. when he’s feeling homesick in the dead of the night, jisung will take him to chan because felix is always too hesitant to disturb the elder from his already limited sleep. when he’s feeling upset or scared, jisung will take his hands and walk through the empty seoul streets with him, silent because he knows that felix will speak up when he wants to. when he’s insecure, jisung will talk to him with nothing but honey dripping from his tongue, knowing exactly what to say because, really, jisung knows him better than he knows himself.

 

and, in return, felix does the same. when jisung is struck with writers’ block and unable to finish a song, felix will take his notebook, telling him it’s okay to take a break. when jisung is frustrated with himself, felix will sit him down and talk him through it gently and quietly, voice tender and soft. when jisung feels homesick because, even now, his family hasn’t returned from malaysia, felix will wrap him in a warm hug, engulf him with the softest blankets he can find and just _be there_ for him.

 

but, what hurts felix the most is knowing that jisung is going through something that he can’t comfort or help him through, because, well, jisung is an enigma. he’s a dormant volcano, not erupting, but, rather keeping his emotions hidden. he’s the moon, dark and mysterious despite providing light and guidance.

 

felix breathes slowly, eyes still trained on the tv. beside him, he hears minho shuffle slightly before a blanket is spread over his lap and a shoulder is pressed against his own. minho makes himself comfortable before speaking, words almost inaudible because of the sound of the cartoon characters arguing.

 

“it’s okay to feel that way, felix. i feel the same, sometimes.” minho says. “but you need to understand that jisung needs to accept and understand his own feelings and problems first so we can help him. he wouldn’t want us to misread a situation and work ourselves up over nothing.”

 

felix hums, body slumping slightly.

 

“but, what we can do is make sure he knows we love him. because that’s all we really can do at the moment.”

 

felix smiles slightly, tapping minho’s thigh in the same beat as the tune he hears filtering out from his bedroom.

 

“loving him?” he whispers. “that, i can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [say hi!](https://twitter.com/jiskies)   
> 


	6. thanks.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> honestly, seungmin doesn’t want to think about not winning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: depictions of a car accident, mentions of blood and injury

_do you know, i’m always thankful?_

when it happens, seungmin doesn’t know what to think.

 

he’s standing next to changbin, in between him and minho, and his legs won’t stop shaking. it’s funny really, how weak he becomes when he hears their name spoken into the microphones and sees it shine brightly back at them through the screens. he’s heard and seen their name a thousand and more times- in stadiums, arenas, during concerts and award shows, but for some reason, the name ‘stray kids’ being chanted throughout the small music show hall is enough to bring him to his knees.

 

when it happens, jeongin doesn’t know what to think.

 

he doesn’t feel it when woojin engulfs him into a hug- doesn’t hear the elder whisper soothing words into his ears. but he does feel the way a warm hand massages at his shoulders comfortingly, another running through his hair as he cries. he feels the warm breath on his cheek, tired but proud. he barely registers their song blasting through the speakers and in their in-ears. he barely hears the screams and cries of the stays in the audience. he barely feels himself as he bows to the other idols walking off the stage, whispering their own congratulations.

 

when it happens, jisung doesn’t know what to think.

 

(but he does remember feeling the burn of changbin’s hug.

 

the elder had confessed it many times before that he’d never really felt comfortable initiating skinship with jisung because of how far in age he seemed to feel. though they were only a year apart, changbin had stated multiple times that jisung seemed to transcend age- grown too fast, he used to say. in that way, jisung liked to act like the elder one in their relationship- he’d had more trainee experience than changbin, had worked with chan for longer than any of the other kids, and, really, he’d been the one to welcome each and every one of them on their first days.

 

he didn’t mind it though. he liked being the one everyone could rely on- liked being their source of happiness and comfort. but, as he stands at the back of the stage, watching as his members hug and cry and laugh, he feels numb. his ears ring and buzz and he can barely see anything but changbin’s figure moving towards him and all he wants to do is surge forward and cry into the elder’s arms but he knows that changbin isn’t one for skinship and cuddles and-

 

oh.

 

“changbin,” he wheezes, crying, “hyung, it hurts.”

but changbin only laughs in return, tightening the hug. jisung squeezes his eyes shut and wills himself to become weak in the elder’s arms- just for once, he tells himself.

 

“hyung, we did it.” he whispers. in front of him, he watches as felix smiles and coos, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. the fans are screaming, crying just as much as those on stage, and the lightsticks glisten under the stage lights. they’re chanting, and jisung watches as hyunjin cries into seungmin’s shoulder.

 

“we really did it.”)

 

* * *

 

“have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?”

 

seungmin looks up from his phone, squinting his eyes at the elder rapper. he’s sat in front of the tv, duvet wrapped around his head as he stares at the screen. he’s watching their performances from earlier, eyes trained on the small details of their dance.

 

“the butterfly effect?” seungmin questions, leaning onto his palm.

 

jisung nods in return. “the theory that changing something in the past, whether it be big or small, can cause a huge impact on the future.”

 

seungmin hums in understanding, attention turning back to his phone. “i guess. why?”

 

there’s a beat of silence before jisung answers, words hanging dangerously in the air. “do you think it would have been different if we didn’t win today?”

 

seungmin freezes, eyes widening and hand hanging from where he’d been brushing it through his hair. “what?”

 

honestly, seungmin doesn’t want to think about not winning. he doesn’t want to think about not feeling their hard work being paid off, not feeling the relief of knowing that every sacrifice they’ve made is worth it. he doesn’t want to feel as though the appreciation and support from their fans wasn’t there. he doesn’t want that- because he knows they don’t deserve that.

 

jisung is still staring at the tv screen, watching himself cry as he hugs changbin’s figure close. he breathes out slowly and traces the buttons of the remote thoughtfully. “nothing.”

 

seungmin lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, shuffling off the couch and sitting next to the older boy. “jisung.” he starts, bringing his knees to his chest. “whatever you’re thinking in that big head of yours, don’t. we won- your songs, your lyrics, they won today. all those late nights and skipped meals have finally started being paid off. are you,” he stops, catching jisung’s gaze, “not happy?”

 

the corner of jisung’s lips curl up reassuringly, “i’m happy, i promise. just… thinking.”

 

“you worry me sometimes.” seungmin says sadly, patting the top of jisung’s head reassuringly. “your brain is too creative for its own good. look, ji, i know i don’t show it a lot, but i care about you and i want you to know that you can come to me if you’re struggling again. i’m your friend- brother, before anything else.”

 

“i know, seungmin,” jisung sighs, “i know. it’s just,” he hesitates and seungmin silently urges him to keep talking, “say something happens. something bad. and you had a chance to change it- make it so it never happened. but, in order to do that, you would have to give up something important to you. would you change it?”

 

seungmin thinks for a second, surveying jisung’s face. his lips are drawn in a straight line, eyes wide and waiting an answer. his hair is strewn across his forehead messily and the duvet slips to his shoulders.

 

“would you change it, seungmin?” jisung is asking again, this time looking straight into seungmin’s eyes, his own holding as much curiosity as he could possibly possess. however, there’s something behind that curiosity- fear, hope and the desire to know how to help an urgent situation.

 

distantly, there’s a ringing.

 

it gets louder and louder, pitch increasing with every second, and, suddenly, seungmin is grabbing the sides of his head. his eyes squeeze shut and he groans, pain writhing his head and pulsing through his temples. he opens his left eye, for just a moment, and squints, trying to find the source of the noise, but all he sees is jisung.

 

jisung, who sits staring at the tv once again. jisung, whose eyes do not waver at the harsh sounds that plague seungmin’s mind. jisung, who turns to seungmin slowly, almost creepily, with eyes as soulless and as dim as seungmin had ever seen before. jisung, who is not jisung.

 

“would you change it?”

 

seungmin groans again and his eyes fall shut, but, instead of complete darkness, he sees things. he sees chan, dressed in all black and sitting in the front seat of the car, turning back every now and again to laugh. he can hear that now, instead of the terrible ringing that, though still present, is more subdued. he sees jeongin, sitting next to him, head resting against the window of the moving van and vibrating alongside the music. he sees woojin and changbin and hyunjin and red. bright lights and… flowers. he sees flowers. he hears the sound of a horn and the punitive collision of tyres with concrete. he hears screaming and _seungmin? seungmin, wake up! seungmin? hyung-_

 

“would you change it?”

 

it’s that voice again; it won’t stop. it’s loud and deafening, but, at the same time, it’s soft and calm. it’s unlike any voice he’s ever heard before and is a complete contrast to jisung’s own tone. but it’s jisung talking to him, because he’s right there. standing in the middle of the road. his eyes are closed and something is dangling from his fingers and _he’s standing in the middle of the road._

 

“yes,” seungmin rasps, tears starting to fall. he doesn’t want to see this anymore because minho is lying in a gurney and felix is bleeding out from his leg and chan is crying and hyunjin is lying on top of the wreckage and jisung is standing in the middle of the road. “i would change it.”

 

jisung’s eyes snap open from where he’s standing and the wind carries his voice as he trips on his way to seungmin. “would you really?” he asks, bewildered. his eyes are blown wide and his hands are pressed tightly to his chest.

 

“yes!” seungmin almost screams because the pain is agonising now. he doesn’t know what he’s saying he’d change but his head hurts and it won’t stop ringing and- “yes, i would change it.”

 

jisung visibly relaxes and the ringing softens to a small buzzing. almost like a bee. annoying, but bearable. the scene sinks and, when seungmin opens his eyes, he’s back at the dorms. beside him, he hears minho snore lightly and his gaze catches the alarm clock on the bedside table.

 

it’s midnight.

 

seungmin groans as he sits up, body aching and head still vaguely pulsing. he sits and looks around in the dark for a few seconds, the only source of light being the small crack of the door. a shadow hovers outside for a split second and seungmin is quick to stumble out of bed, tiptoeing over bundles of clothing and carefully pulling the door open.

 

it’s jisung. of course.

 

he’s moving stealthily around the dorm, checking windows and light switches. seungmin stands in his doorway for a moment, watching as jisung tidies away mess that hyunjin and minho had left in the kitchen earlier that day. they’d been in charge of cleaning and cooking, respectively, and obviously left a mess lying around for someone else to clean up in the morning (it would end up being seungmin, because it’s his turn to clean up after breakfast- and, honestly, screw hyunjin; he knows how much he hates cleaning and-).

 

“jisung.”

 

the elder boy freezes, hand lying on the doorknob of his bedroom door. he’d moved to his room whilst seungmin was mentally cursing hyunjin. he doesn’t turn but his tense stance is enough to tell seungmin that he’s listening.

 

“seungmin, you’re up,” he says in mild surprise. “i thought you’d sleep through the night. you knocked out pretty hard earlier.”

 

“what happened?” seungmin can only remember screams and he’d rather not relive it.

 

“we were talking and i asked you a question but when i turned around, you were knocked out against the couch. i figured you were tired from earlier so i got chan-hyung to carry you to bed.”

 

jisung turns slowly, bringing his arms up to cross themselves over his torso. he looks unusually small- young. truthfully, he’s always looked older than his true age, acted as if he was an adult rather than just a kid still trying to work their way through life. despite his petite figure and round face that almost made him look like a child, jisung was always treated like one of the elder trainees. he was always told to look out for the others, even if they were older. he was punished if the younger ones did wrong because _jisung, you should know better._ he was always the one to feel burdened if others were lacking or being scolded.

 

distantly, seungmin remembers, during the survival show, when they’d performed hellevator in front of jyp and only jisung had been complimented. instead of feeling happy with the comment, he’d been plagued with guilt because _jisung how could you improve without helping those who are struggling?_

 

“earlier,” seungmin startles at how abruptly he speaks, “in the living room. what did you mean? when- when you asked if i would change it?”

 

jisung’s eyes flash in acknowledgement and his lips turn into a sheepish smile. “it was nothing, seungmin. just a silly question.”

 

no, it wasn’t, seungmin wants to say, because silly questions don’t cause visions so frightening and dangerous. because silly questions don’t make you imagine accidents or cries or blood. because silly questions don’t make seungmin want to scream out from the pain pulsing through his forehead and heart.

 

“actually,” jisung starts again, looking down at his hands, “i never- i never got an answer.”

 

“what?”

 

jisung looks up at him again, rubbing the back of his neck. “would you change it? if something bad happened.”

 

seungmin shuffles uncomfortably. he has no idea why jisung’s asking this or what’s brought this to mind but he can tell it’s not good. jeongin had told him earlier about how worried he was for the elder and he knows both felix and minho have caught on. he isn’t quite sure what to do because, well, he isn’t chan or woojin, or even changbin. he’s, in no way, capable of comforting jisung in the same way someone elder and more experienced could. it isn’t that he doesn’t want to help, he just doesn’t know how to.

 

“i mean, i guess i would.” seungmin replies, finally.

 

a light flickers and jisung smiles.

 

“good.” he says, turning back around and nodding a small goodnight. “i would too.”

 

and, like that, seungmin is left standing in the middle of the dorm, alone.

 

* * *

 

something’s wrong.

 

something’s wrong. hyunjin knows something’s wrong because they’re in the waiting room and no-one’s talking. felix and minho are sitting to the side, behind chan, and they take turns glancing at jisung, who sits in between jeongin’s legs. the younger himself leans against the couch, one hand scrolling through his phone and the other hand carding through jisung’s hair. beside them, seungmin is tapping his foot against the floor nervously, biting his bottom lip and playing with the hem of his shirt. every once in a while, he’ll glance at jisung when he thinks no-one else is looking, just like felix and minho.

 

something’s wrong.

 

hyunjin glances at chan, maybe to get his attention or to see if he notices the tension in the room, but the elder is busy talking to woojin. they’re laughing about something on the elder’s phone, and, well, hyunjin doesn’t want to ruin that by mentioning that something is wrong.

 

truthfully, hyunjin isn’t always the first to notice changes or tension within the group. normally, he’d be the last to notice these things. it’s not that he’s a bad person or bad friend; it’s just…

 

it’s hard.

 

being an only child, he never had someone growing up. he never had to be vigilant or attentive, never had to look out for someone else. so, when he arrived at jyp and found out that he’d be debuting with, not one, but four people younger than him, he didn’t know what to do. or how to act, really. at jyp, he’d fought continuously with jisung over the silliest of things, so how was he going to handle this?

 

being part of stray kids means he’s directly in the middle according to age. there are four members older than him and four younger. there’s a balance and that’s why problems are never problems for so long. the older members always know how to protect and keep the younger members safe and, in return, the younger members will try to lift those burdens off their shoulders.

 

jisung is unusual.

 

he’s directly under hyunjin in age, barely a few hours older than felix, and yet he’s continuously given the responsibility of an older member. maybe due to his long contribution and participation in 3racha, or his extended trainee time compared to everyone else (excluding chan, obviously), or maybe his tendency to act older than he actually is.

 

whatever it is, hyunjin is not a fan of it.

 

because it means that, sometimes, jisung’s issues are overlooked or, maybe, not even seen at all. that’s not to say they don’t care- no, they care too much. and that’s the problem. jisung knows that they care and knows that they’ll notice when a problem arises. so, he acts. keeps it hidden under lock and key.

 

that’s why hyunjin finds it hard to notice things like this. but when the others are so obvious as to show their concern so visibly, he can’t help but feel that something is terribly, terribly wrong.

 

hyunjin taps changbin’s arm gently, tilting his head to the door when the elder looks at him. he stands, telling chan that they’ll be in the bathroom should they be called on stage when they’re out. the leader nods, telling them to be quick, and hyunjin drags changbin out of the room.

 

in the hallway, hyunjin stops in front of a water dispenser.

 

“something’s wrong,” he says, crossing his arms, “everyone’s acting weird.”

 

changbin tilts his head to the side, obviously previously unaware of the tension within the room. it’s no surprise really, that changbin doesn’t sense that something’s… off- different. 3racha have been busy lately, extremely busy, and hyunjin doubts if even jisung or chan have sensed the sudden change in atmosphere. “weird how?”

 

hyunjin sighs, exasperated, “i don’t…know. jeongin has been clingier than usual. more protective- of jisung, mostly. a few days ago, when you, chan and jisung were working in your room, i heard felix and minho talking about jisung. i mean, they thought i went out or something but i was in the kitchen looking for food. anyway, they were talking about how jisung’s been distant recently and how jeongin read something he wasn’t supposed to. he’s been bothered by it ever since, apparently. and then, last night, seungmin left the room at about midnight and he was talking to someone outside. i think it was jisung? he asked seungmin if he would change something- something bad. i didn’t hear the rest of the conversation but, when seungmin came back, he didn’t fall asleep for another hour. he’s been acting weird all morning.”

 

changbin thinks for a moment, crossing his own arms and clicking his tongue. he looks at his feet for a moment before looking back up to hyunjin. the younger’s face is flushed red from talking without breathing and his eyebrows are knitted above his eyes, which hold a look of trepidation and worry and the frustration of not knowing what’s going on.

 

“i’m just worried.” hyunjin sighs, body slumping. “what if something’s wrong with jisung and nobody acts on it because we’re all too scared of misunderstanding and crossing boundaries? what if something’s wrong and we’re too late? what if-”

 

“hyunjin.” changbin stops him, placing his hands on the younger’s shoulders. “calm down. breathe.”

 

he watches as hyunjin closes his eyes, hands on his own chest as he breathes deeply. when he’s calm, changbin takes a step back. “it’s not going to get to that point, jin. jisung knows his limits and won’t let himself drift too far. we’ll talk to jeongin, felix, minho and seungmin about it later, maybe with chan and woojin, and sort this out without worrying jisung.”

 

“everything will be okay,” hyunjin plays with the edge of his hoodie, “right, hyung?”

 

“of course, hyunjin.” changbin steps forward, punching the younger’s shoulder playfully to try and elicit a laugh out of him. “we can work through anything. nine or none, yeah?”

 

hyunjin smiles, eyes turning into crescent moons. “yeah,” he laughs, “nine or none.”

 

* * *

 

“this is an intervention.”

 

minho looks up from his phone and towards changbin, who stands at his door with his hands on his hips. he snorts, switching his phone off and throwing it onto his pillow. “you look funny.” it’s true; changbin’s clad in a tight-fitted white shirt, baggy sweatpants and snorlax socks. on his head, he wears a towel, obviously newly-showered.

 

changbin growls and takes the towel off, throwing it at seungmin, who groans as the wet material comes in contact with his face. “what do you mean, ‘intervention’?”

 

“i mean,” changbin opens the door and sticks his head out, pulling an unsuspecting hyunjin in who, in turn, drags felix in with him, “you’ve all been acting weird. someone,” he turns his head harshly to hyunjin, “is worried.”

 

“who’s worried?”

 

changbin flinches as jeongin emerges from the pile of blankets on the floor, hand on his chest as he glares at the younger. jeongin’s hair is messy atop his head and there are pillow marks decorating his face.

 

“hyunjin.” changbin replies, shutting the door and motioning for everyone to sit on minho’s bed. it’s a tight fit but it works. “you’ve all been acting weird. especially around jisung.”

 

minho sighs, moving to sit cross-legged on his pillow. “you’ve noticed?”

 

hyunjin snorts. “you’re not very good at being subtle about it.”

 

“what’s going on?” changbin interjects, taking a seat on the floor and pressing his knees to his chest. “no-one’s leaving until we sort this out. and i’m not getting chan-hyung or woojin-hyung involved because they’d worry too much. did you guys fight or something?”

 

“what?” jeongin is quick to interrupt, shaking his head rapidly. “no, it’s not like that. no-one’s fought or anything. it’s just…”

 

“just?”

 

“jisung’s been,” felix doesn’t know how to put it, “withdrawn. reserved. doesn’t joke around or talk as much as he used to. he’s always busy writing too. i mean, i don’t know how 3racha works or anything but he’s never written this much during a comeback. he says he needs to finish before it’s too late.”

 

changbin hums, confused. he furrows his eyebrows and clicks his tongue. “weird.” he says. “chan-hyung hasn’t given us any projects to work on. as far as i know, we don’t need to be writing right now. i’ll have to double check with hyung.”

 

“it’s not just that.” jeongin speaks up again, biting his lip anxiously. he breathes in deeply before starting again. “i read… i read one of his lyrics- i think. i didn’t think that much about it at first but then he started… acting weird. he’d leave the dorm when he thought i was sleeping and there’s also that strange thing with the chicken. when we’re in the room, he says things about him leaving or something. things about how we’ll, i don’t know, miss the way he sings and raps and stuff like that.”

 

“there was also this thing- last week.” minho’s head jerks up. “in the practice rooms. it was late- and i was dancing and… and i fell. or, at least, i thought i fell. i twisted my ankle and i felt my body hit the floor and i felt the blood and everything but when i opened my eyes, none of that had happened. but jisung was there, all of a sudden. he’d protected me, i guess. like with jeongin’s chicken.”

 

a few moments of silence pass before seungmin clears his throat, standing from where he’d sat on the edge of the bed.

 

“have any of you,” he stops, fixing his jumper, “heard of the butterfly effect?”

 

“the belief that drastically changing the past can seriously alter the future.” changbin mutters, urging the younger to keep talking.

 

“yeah, we were talking about that yesterday. he asked me if i would change the past if something bad happens, in exchange for something important. i didn’t really know what he meant so i didn’t answer but-”

 

he breathes in sharply, memories flooding his mind and vision. _blood, red, hurt- helphelphelp-_

beside him, hyunjin squeezes his hand.

 

“there was this _ringing_ ,” he chokes out, “it wouldn’t stop and it _hurt_. and i wasn’t in the dorms anymore- and we were in a car. chan-hyung was sitting in front and he was laughing but i was hurting and jeongin was next to me sleeping and then- then the car hit something.” he’s panicking- _stop panicking_. “i can’t- can’t remember- but there was a lot of blood and jisung- jisung was standing in the middle of the road. he was just _standing_ there- asking if i would change it. it hurt so bad, hyung, so i said i would and- and then i was back here.”

 

seungmin isn’t crying- no. he’s not. because it wasn’t real, he knows that. even so, arms wrap around his shoulders and a hand comes to the back of his head, pushing it into changbin’s shoulder. someone hums in his ear and he feels his breathing even out slowly.

 

when he pulls away, his nose is tinted pink and someone presses the pad of their thumb to his cheek, wiping away tears, _no- he didn’t cry_. there are five sets of eyes looking at him with worry and fear and he knows they understand now- this isn’t just a problem with jisung. this affects the whole group. something is wrong, very wrong, and jisung is the centre of whatever that something is. he’s sure of it.

 

felix clears his throat and presses a pillow close to his chest. “so, you and minho had these… scary visions centred around jisung- and jeongin’s noticed he’s been acting strange nowadays.” everyone nods, heads bowed. “so- so what do we do? this isn’t- this can’t be normal.”

 

“what can we do?” changbin stresses, running a hand through his hair. “we can’t just-”

 

changbin is abruptly cut off by a knocking on the door. hyunjin startles, throwing a blanket over seungmin’s figure and wrapping his arms around the september boy _. can’t know he cried_. jeongin scurries onto the floor, back into the pile of white sheets he’d emerged from earlier. startled, felix falls into minho’s arms and changbin stands, fixing his socks as the door swings open.

 

comically, chan sticks his head through the small crack. he laughs at the scene before him. jeongin pressed against changbin’s legs, chin just barely dangling above the snorlax socks. hyunjin is lying on top of a moving figure who he assumes is seungmin from the way the threats just naturally spill from the muffled cloth. felix and minho lie in an extremely awkward position, legs dangling off the bed and bodies strewn across the wall.

 

it’s a mess.

 

“what’s going on here?”

 

changbin chuckles nervously. “nothing, we were just talking.”

 

from behind chan, another head pops in through the door, pushing it open quickly and without warning. chan falls to the floor with a scream and the entire room bursts out into laughter, with the exception of seungmin’s complaints from under hyunjin.

 

“what are you guys talking about?” jisung bounds across the room, eyes wide and a pretty smile decorating his face. behind him, woojin tells him to be careful running across the hardwood floor with his socks on.

 

“come on,” jisung pulls at felix’s hand, dragging his september twin off the bed, “i want to eat!”

 

he’s happier today. carefree, clingy. it’s almost as if they weren’t just discussing his apparent displacement from his usual behaviour. hyunjin catches jeongin’s eye- a silent question. the younger shrugs in return.

 

“come on, i’m hungry! and chan-hyung said i could pick the first movie!”

 

ah, yes. they’d promised to have a chill, relaxing movie night. to celebrate their first win- hyunjin remembers now (large, expensive dinners overcrowded with people don’t usually excite them now so they’d decided to stay in to celebrate). something wells up in his stomach- something _bad._ it makes him feel almost nauseous but he ignores it. he clambers off seungmin’s body, pulling the blanket with him, and laughs as seungmin inhales deeply, face red and eyes wide.

 

“are you okay?” woojin laughs from where he’s standing at the door.

 

seungmin looks at changbin for a split second, eyes searching. the elder nods- motions for him to pretend just for this moment, act as if nothing is wrong.

 

seungmin nods in return, smiling up at woojin and laughing when jisung takes his hand and pulls him up, shouting about how excited he is to finally watch that movie he’d been waiting all week to see.

 

before jisung fully drags him out of the room, seungmin gives minho’s hand a quick squeeze. later, it means. they’ll continue their conversation tomorrow. he glances at jeongin and hyunjin, giving them a look of reassurance before allowing himself to be pulled into jisung’s hold.

 

later, if they have time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [say hi!](https://twitter.com/jiskies)   
> 


	7. cherish.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> with or without jisung, they return home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: depictions of a fire

_my most cherished beings._

this has happened before.

 

chan glances over the array of bodies lying on the futons they’d set on the floor, feet on stomachs and heads on legs. an american movie is playing on the tv with the volume turned down low because jeongin and changbin have already started to doze off. behind him, he hears a commotion in the kitchen and shouts for hyunjin and jisung to be careful.

in his mind, there’s a voice.

_flames- there’s flames. you need to save them. getoutgetoutgetout-_

 

this has happened before, chan is sure, because he’s never watched this movie, ever, but he seems to know exactly what happens next. it’s strange but he doesn’t think much of it; maybe it had played in the background as he worked or maybe he’d heard felix talk about it at some point.

 

_that man is going to save that woman, they’re going to kiss, seungmin will knee jeongin in the face and- flames, fire… get out- out!_

 

in the kitchen, jisung shouts at hyunjin to get out, followed by the sound of dishes clanking against aluminium. hyunjin emerges with a sheepish grin on his face, snacks cradled in his arms and soft drinks hanging from his fingers. “jisung’s trying to make nine instant ramen cups at the same time.” he answers when chan looks at him curiously. “he kicked me out because he said i’d burn myself or something,” he continues, taking a seat next to seungmin, “which i wouldn’t have, by the way.”

 

_hyunjin- hyunjin, what did you do? get out- getoutgetout… out!_

 

“sure,” seungmin retorts, taking a packet of crisps from under hyunjin’s armpit, “we believe you.”  

 

hyunjin pouts, releasing his hold on the snacks and crossing his arms across his chest. he leans back onto jeongin, who grumbles for him to get off, and glances back at the kitchen. “i think he’s going to take a while,” hyunjin whispers, “we should talk.”

 

chan cocks his head to the side, sitting up. “about what?”

 

“woojin-hyung, chan-hyung,” changbin interjects, all of a sudden more awake and aware, “have you experienced anything… weird, lately?”

 

woojin turns his attention away from the tv for a split-second, finger on his chin. “i mean, the convenience store stopped stocking the-”

 

“no, no, hyung,” felix laughs, “we mean, with jisung. have you experienced anything weird involving jisung?” noticing their confused faces, he decides to elaborate, clearing his throat and leaning in closer. he repeats everything that they had talked about in bedroom beforehand- the lyrics, the chicken incident, the visions. throughout, woojin and chan listen with fervour, curiosity and worry coursing through their bodies.

 

“at first,” jeongin speaks up quietly, “i thought it was just the stress of the comeback- or maybe he’s been struggling, mentally. but then, the chicken incident happened and i thought- something’s happening. something’s wrong. he’s hiding something.”

 

_minho- wake up! jisung- jisung, felix, help jeongin get up! you can’t- no-_

chan startles up, blanket falling from where it lay on his chest. beside him, minho yelps, head falling onto the pillow behind him. felix flinches, hands landing on the remote and fast forwarding the movie slightly. he curses and chan’s eyes find the tv, where a car crashes and erupts into an explosion, flames submerging the screen.

 

_fire- fire!_

“there was a fire.”

 

his voice is harsh but quiet and his eyes are wide, filled with fear. they dart to the kitchen entrance, hears the soft hum of jisung’s voice. the scene in front of him dissolves and then-

 

_flames._

jisung is in front of him, holding his hands. his head is bowed and his hands are visibly shaking. they’re surrounded by flames and it’s _so hot_ \- it’s suffocating. there’s no-one else there- where did they go? he’s screaming, but he can’t feel his mouth move, and he’s crying but there are no tears falling from his eyes.

 

“hyung,” jisung’s voice is muffled by the crackling of fire, “hyung, i’m so sorry.”

 

chan closes his eyes as the flames begin to engulf them, ringing in his ears and voice stuck in his throat.

 

“i’ll try again- i’ll try and try until i get it right. i promise, i promise, hyung. i’m sorry, hyung, i’m so sor-”

 

chan opens his eyes.

 

in front of him, felix is staring him straight in the eye, warm hands cupping his face. the freckled boy is sitting on his knees in front of the elder, jeongin on his left and minho on his right. when he looks around, chan notices that the rest are looking at him as if he’d grown another head, and the movie they’d been playing has been paused.

 

“what,” he breathes, shakily, “was that?”

 

felix’s hands leave his cheeks and everyone leans back. chan places a hand to his neck, checks for a pulse, and runs his fingers through his hair.

 

“what did you see, hyung?” jeongin asks, wrapping himself in a blanket.

 

“a fire,” chan utters, not quite believing himself, “here. in the dorms. there was a fire. and jisung-” his eyes flash to the kitchen, “-jisung was there. and he was holding my hands and telling me-”

 

he stops. breathes. repeats.

 

“he was apologising.”

 

nobody talks. the movie starts playing again, because, in his shock, felix had flung back onto the remote. on the screen, a woman cries the loss of her friends, her family.

 

“see,” hyunjin hisses, fixing his glasses, “i told you something weird was happening. what are we going to do?”

 

woojin breathes shakily, rubbing a hand over his face. “we can’t just… ask him, can we? he’ll think we’re crazy.”

 

“it wouldn’t hurt to ask,” changbin rebukes.

 

“i agree.” seungmin nods his head. “if something really is happening, and it involves all of us, don’t you think we have a right to know?”

 

minho sighs, leaning back against the couch. “it’s more complicated than that, seungmin. you know how jisung is- it’s better that he acknowledges and understands the things that are happening before we tell him so that he can process it in his own way.”

 

“everything has revolved around jisung so far,” felix bites his lip, “don’t you think that maybe he already knows what’s going on? if we ask now, maybe he’ll give us some answers. how he knew about the chicken, and you falling, and maybe about seungmin and chan-hyung and whatever was written in his notebook.”

 

“i get that, felix,” chan sighs, “but what if he doesn’t even know what’s happening right now? what if he’s just as clueless as us? what if we blindly bombard him with questions he doesn’t even know the answer to? you know how that’s gone before. plus, we don’t want to accidentally intrude on something personal. if he knows jeongin read something from his notebook, it’d be harder for him to open up.”

 

a small hum fills the room as the seven others nod their heads. “i think we should just,” jeongin moves to pick up the remote, “enjoy tonight and worry about it tomorrow. we’re supposed to be celebrating- it’s looking very sombre right now.”

 

chan watches as seungmin nods, relaxing back onto the futon. conversation begins to pick up, about random things like new songs, new movies. the eight in the living decide on another movie- there isn’t much that they haven’t already watched on netflix (chan blames it on the kids’ continuous need to have their eyes focused on screens) so they settle on a random american teen drama with korean subtitles. _before i fall_ \- minho had figured that it’d be interesting because it involved time travel.

 

as the movie starts, jisung comes barrelling with two ramen cups and a handful of chopsticks balanced in his hands. his face is one full on concentration, eyebrows furrowed and tongue poking out from the corner of his lips. he almost slips on a blanket but chan is quick to pause the movie and help steady him before he does so.

 

“i’ve been calling you guys to help me for five minutes now,” jisung grumbles, handing the cups to felix and jeongin, “need i remind you that it was _hyunjin’s_ turn to make the ramen.”

 

hyunjin whines, pouting. “well, you kicked me out! why should i help you when you were mean to me?”

 

jisung rolls his eyes, turning back into the direction of the kitchen. “i had to kick you out, jin. you would’ve…” he pauses, “… you would’ve started a fire or something.”

 

chan and woojin share a look, following the younger as he continues carrying the ramen cups into the room. the kitchen is a mess when they enter, spice packets flung about everywhere and the kettle lying sideways on the table. the two eldest move quickly to tidy the mess up before helping jisung with the rest of the food.

 

once they’re all finally settled into the floor of the living room, food scattered all around them, hyunjin starts playing the movie.

 

chan pretends not to notice jisung’s eyes widening when he reads the description of the movie. he pretends to not notice how, from the very first word said, the younger had kept his eyes entirely onto the screen, food left untouched despite his own effort to make it. he pretends not to notice the look of complete focus, the look of empathy, the look of complete and utter understanding on the millennial’s face.

 

_“maybe, for you, there’s a tomorrow. maybe, for you, there’s one thousand… or three thousand… or ten. but, for some of us… there’s only today. and what you do today matters. in the moment and, maybe, into infinity.”_

 

* * *

 

they fell asleep.

 

woojin wakes up to the sound of shuffling. there’s a cramp in his foot from where it’s a cushion for jeongin’s head and his arm feels like static because it’s trapped between the futon and seungmin’s back. he groans as he moves to sit up, carefully turning seungmin over so he can cuddle into hyunjin’s side.

 

it’s barely eleven o’clock and they fell asleep. the tv is still on, the description of the film they were watching displayed on the screen again. it’s the only light source in the room so woojin uses it to look around at everyone.

 

chan is sat up against the front of the couch, head leaning back onto the seat of the couch. on his lap, felix is snoring lightly. his legs are resting underneath minho’s head, who is also splayed across hyunjin’s own lower half. seungmin has his arms wrapped around the older millennial, and changbin himself has his arms wrapped around seungmin’s right leg. jeongin’s hand is lying on changbin’s chest, rising and falling with his breathing. it’s calming and peaceful and woojin can’t help the smile forming on his face.

 

but the smile falls when he realises someone’s missing.

 

jisung- where’s jisung?

 

woojin’s head snaps across the room, eyes darting to every visible area. but jisung’s not there- not anywhere. the lights are off in the kitchen, the front door is closed and locked and no light seeps in from the cracks of the bedroom or bathroom doors.

 

he turns to chan- quickly, and shakes the younger awake. he’s always been a light sleeper. chan awakens with a single shake of the arm, flinching violently and leg flexing upwards. felix tumbles off his lap and into minho’s arms, and they both sit up, alarmed. jeongin’s head falls from woojin’s foot and he accidentally slaps changbin in the face. both hyunjin and seungmin are awoken by the sound of changbin’s scream and they promptly bump foreheads, groaning as the pain radiates through their temples.

 

“what?” chan’s voice is slurred. “what’s happening?”

 

“jisung- jisung- he’s gone.”

 

“what?” woojin flinches as hyunjin shouts in his ear. “jisung’s gone?”

 

seungmin sits up against the couch and shouts for someone to switch the lights on. jeongin moans tiredly, and woojin hears him shuffling off the futon. there’s more panicked movement- felix asking more questions, minho telling hyunjin to calm down, chan standing from where he’d slept sitting up.

 

and then light floods into the room.

 

woojin bites back a groan as the bright light burns his vision, blurring it slightly. he closes his eyes, massaging his temples for a moment. they shoot open when he hears changbin gasp.

 

when his eyes finally focus, he comes face-to-face with his own reflection.

 

the walls are painted with colour, no longer the plain beige they once were. there’s thousands of polaroid pictures decorating their dorm, all vibrant in colour. there’s pictures of jeongin sleeping and hyunjin eating and seungmin singing. there’s pictures of chan, in the studio, recording, and pictures of changbin, in his bedroom, writing. there’s pictures of woojin cooking and minho dancing.

 

there’s pictures of 3racha in the studio, half-asleep. there’s pictures of them preparing for comebacks, dance stages, performances. there’s pictures of the millennials watching tv, pictures of the elder members grocery shopping. there’s pictures from every vlive they’ve ever done.

 

there’s pictures of everything.

 

their first picture as nine when they were trainees. their first meal out together. their first dance practice. their first recording. the first episode of their survival show. the day jyp told them they would debut as nine. the day of their debut. their first win.

 

and under every single polaroid lies one phrase, written in bold black pen.

 

**_nine or none._ **

 

woojin feels his eyes well up in tears, gasps rattling his figure. his knees are weak and he has to lean onto the arm rest. a hand comes up to his mouth to cover it and he feels himself choke on a sob. beside him, felix falls back onto the couch, eyes focused onto the photos stuck above the tv- millennial line photos.

 

the eldest watches as the rest of the group survey the sea of polaroids. jeongin is standing next to the light switch, leaning on the doorframe with his head bowed. he’s crying- tremors rattle his body and woojin watches as tears fall onto the hardwood floor. next to the kitchen entrance, hyunjin is knelt onto the floor, fingers dancing along the edges of each polaroid picture. seungmin is standing next to his fallen figure, head arched upwards and hand covering the lower half of his face. changbin is squatted beside the window, barely holding himself up with his quivering arms. minho is right next to him, holding his hand and rubbing his thumb across the area above his thumb, other hand pressed tightly against his mouth. and chan- chan stands in the middle of the room. he’s openly crying, tears streaming down his face and it’s so painful that woojin has to look away.

 

his eyes catch the door, which is decorated with ten single polaroids, lined in a straight line above the doorknob. looking closer, woojin realises that they’re the only ones that don’t have the **_nine or none_** caption.

 

woojin and jisung, on the day they filmed their first two kids room together. **_i_**. chan and jisung, on the day after their first successful soundcloud release. **_wil_ _l_**. minho and jisung, on the day jisung held his hand and calmed him in front of jyp. **_never_** _._ changbin and jisung, on the day of their first win. **_forget_**. hyunjin and jisung, on the day they decided to put their differences aside and talk to each other, understand each other. **_the_**. felix and jisung, on the day felix came back from elimination. **_memories_**. seungmin and jisung, on the day seungmin hosted the stray kids after school club episode. **_we_** _._ jeongin and jisung, on the day they had their very first recording session of school life together. **_made_** _._

 

and jisung, yesterday. the jisung of yesterday, clad in his baby blue pyjamas and mismatched bright yellow socks. his arms are folded in front of him, carrying the weight of several snacks and drinks. he’s smiling- and it’s a smile woojin realises that he hasn’t seen in a while. it reaches his eyes and makes his cheeks bounce upwards. it’s soft, pure- genuine. **_together_** _._

the last picture is decorated with little scribbles using black ink. it’s one jisung had forced them to take before he was volunteered to make the ramen. it’s a tight fit, with minho and woojin barely squishing themselves into the edges, and with jeongin’s own head under felix’s chin. hyunjin has little devil ears drawn onto the top of his head and an oddly-shaped puppy decorates seungmin’s left cheek. on chan’s own head, jisung has drawn a crown. **_even if it means letting go_**.

 

behind him, woojin hears changbin choke. there’s a few seconds of stunned silence before the younger rapper lets out a watery laugh. “what the fuck is this?” the harsh plosive startles woojin and he looks back to see changbin crying. “is this some sort of sick joke?”

 

changbin spins around, eyes darting to every door of the dorm. his face is scrunched together, eyes wide and glaring with a fire woojin has never seen before. he’s angry, but tears stream down his cheeks and his nose is tinted pink. “han jisung!” his voice cracks. “han jisung, where the fuck are you?”

 

“changbin,” chan’s voice is soft, “calm down.”

 

“calm down?” changbin’s shouting, legs stuttering as he paces. “calm down? jisung’s gone, hyung. he’s not here! what do you think this,” he points to the polaroids decorating the front door, “means? what do you think all those visions and weird occurrences mean? he was trying to- to tell us something or warn us. he’s going to do something, hyung, and it’s not going to be good.” he stops pacing, moving to grab a random jacket from the back of his bedroom door. “i’m going to look for him.”

 

felix is quick to stand from where he’d fallen back on the couch, tripping over a pillow and falling to his knees on the futon. “wait- where would he go?”

 

changbin continues fixing the back of his shoes in the doorway, unfazed by the cold that drifts into the room when he opens the front door. “i don’t know- but i’m not staying here whilst he does something stupid.”

 

woojin hears chan sigh, wiping his cheekbones with the back of his hand. “changbin, wait.” he steps over a misplaced pillow on the floor. “you can’t go out alone- not this late.” he looks around the room, brushing a hand over his face. “woojin, minho- can you two look around the neighbourhood? changbin and i will check the studios and practice rooms.”

 

seungmin emerges from behind woojin, playing with the hem of his jumper nervously. “what about the rest of us, hyung?”

 

chan rubs the younger’s arm, pulling him close. “sorry, seungmin, but you, hyunjin, felix and jeongin, will have to stay here in case he comes back. we can’t have any of you going missing too.”

 

hyunjin stumbles forward, eyes wide and arms flailing about. his cheeks are dusted pink and his eyes are a rosy red. his mouth stutters as he talks, words rolling off his tongue uneasily. “no- no.” he shakes his head, already on his way to the front door. “i’m older than jisung- i need to- i’m-” hyunjin stops to breathe in deeply and heavily, “-please, hyung. i need to help find him. he’s my- my _best friend_.”

 

“okay,” chan breathes out, eyes soft and understanding, “you go with woojin and minho.” he turns his attention back to the youngest members. “call if he comes back or if anything happens, okay?”

 

jeongin nods, lips shivering against each other. he doesn’t want to talk in fear of breaking down so he doesn’t make any move to object. though he’d rather go out and find his elder brother, he’d also like to stay at home, safe, looking through all their memories throughout the years and hoping that they’ll all come home soon.

 

felix rubs the back of jeongin’s neck, pulling the youngest and seungmin closer. “we’ll be okay here, hyung,” felix whispers in english, a habit of his to do when his emotions are overcome with worry and fear, “go- go find him. bring jisung home.”

 

“don’t worry, lix.” minho ruffles the younger australian’s hair before doing the same to the younger two pressed to his side. “i promise, we’ll bring our sunshine home.”

 

* * *

 

hyunjin’s running.

 

he’s running faster than he’s ever done before. beneath him, his feet smack against the concrete pavement, thundering loudly. a truck drives past and hyunjin flinches, breathing heavily against the wall of a small convenience store. he runs a hand through his hair, sighing and willing himself to calm down.

 

hyunjin looks around, fixing the hood of his jacket on top of his head. he sees people walking across the pavement- parents with their kids, students coming out of late-night tuition and cram schools, people dancing outside of nightclubs, businessmen passed out in front of bars. but none of them are jisung.

 

“where did you go?” he whispers under his breath, fingers messing with the tips of his hair.

 

hyunjin has searched every street of their neighbourhood; every open store, every restaurant, every street corner, every alley, every park, everywhere. but jisung isn’t anywhere to be found. chan and changbin had already called to tell him that the younger wasn’t anywhere in the jyp building either so, god, where could he possibly be?

 

“hyunjin!”

 

he spins around, eyes catching the group of boys running towards him. chan and woojin lead the group of four and hyunjin is quick to approach them. they meet in the middle of the street in front of a flower shop- hyssop, it’s called. hyunjin doesn’t really pay attention to it as he leans against the glass of its store.

 

“did you find him?” minho’s voice comes out through pants, heavy breathing and stuttering lips. he’d only left the dorm in a thin cardigan so it’s no doubt that he’s cold.

 

hyunjin shakes his head, keeping his gaze to the ground. he feels unaccomplished and guilty because they’d promised to bring jisung home, but they can’t even find him and it’s all starting to feel as if this is one huge nightmare that he can’t wake up from. that _they_ can’t wake up from.

 

“god, where could he be?” woojin looks close to crying again but he holds it in- strong.

 

“do you think he went home? to- to either incheon or malaysia. maybe he got called in earlier for a family emergency or something?” minho tries to sound reassuring but chan only shakes his head in return.

 

“if that were true, management would have called.”

 

distantly, there’s a ringing.

 

it’s a phone- chan’s.

 

the elder members share a glance as chan fumbles with his pockets, phone nearly slipping from his fingertips. it’s jeongin calling, and hyunjin takes his own phone out of his pocket, seeing that he’s already missed at least seven calls from both felix and seungmin. perhaps jisung had come home, or perhaps he’d messaged them to tell him where he is. that’s the hope- but it quickly diminishes when jeongin’s voice filters in through the receiver.

 

“hyung- hyung, you need to come home.” jeongin’s voice is panicked, quick. chan surveys the faces in front of him, all varying in degrees of worry and apprehension. “all of you. come home.”

 

hyunjin takes the phone, hands shaking. “jeongin, what’s happened?” no reply. “jeongin, did jisung come back?”

 

“just come home.” he sounds like he’s crying, “hyung. please.”

 

hyunjin pulls his hood off his head, shooting a glance to chan. the elder looks back through the edge of his own hood, eyes squinted. beside him, changbin squeezes his arm tightly in worry. woojin and minho stand side-by-side, pressed tightly against each other. they all share a silent look, droplets of rain starting to fall. the phone lays in hyunjin’s limp hand, lit up with jeongin’s contact information.

 

really, there’s only one thing for sure.

 

with or without jisung, they return home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [say hi!](https://twitter.com/jiskies)   
> 


	8. dear.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> he’s afraid of that- of not being the stray kids they started off as, the trainees that once fought but now treated each other like family, the brothers that went through every single experience together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: mentions of car accident

_loving words, my dear._

it’s raining when they reach the dorms.

 

rain- thick, crystal drops, gleam a frightful silver under the barely-lit moonlight as they approach the dorm building. a strong breeze whistles down the street, ruffling their dripping coats and tickling the tendrils of hair on the back of their necks.

 

hyunjin is wrapped tightly under minho’s arm, face sheltered by the sleeve of his jacket draped over the elder’s shoulders. he’s shivering- though he thinks it might be more because of his fear for jisung’s safety than because of the cold shards of rain water digging into his skin. nonetheless, he buries himself deeper into minho’s side, for warmth, for comfort, and for reassurance.

 

chan hears someone- changbin, maybe- shiver quietly but he keeps his stare to the ground, ignoring the way woojin wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him close. the slightly elder boy is cold to the touch, shivering with every step they take.

 

vaguely, chan remembers a time not even a month ago. a time when they (excluding hyunjin) were returning home from the studios, wind tickling their exposed skin and whispering eerie songs into their ears. when they had found jisung, sitting in the rain, alone and cold- when he’d freaked out, drunk on worry and fear and fainted against their touch.

 

he wishes that were the case now.

 

however, as they approach the dorm entrance, nobody is sat on any of the benches. nobody is shivering in only a thin cardigan, illuminated by the dim moonlight. nobody is crying beside a leafless tree. nobody is there.

 

the rain hails down, mocks them- laughs. changbin has half a mind to turn back where he came from and run and run and _run_ until he finds jisung- proves the rain and the heavens wrong.

 

but it’s cold. it’s cold and his entire body is numb and all he can do is limply follow woojin as they enter the building, dripping wet. a woman comes out of her first-floor apartment and gasps at them, offering more jackets and towels but they decline politely, making their way up to their apartment.

 

their steps begin to falter when they reach their floor, apprehension tinting their movement and restraining their power. it’s hard, hyunjin realises- moving when you’re so afraid of what’s to come. fear will engulf you, take you whole and devour your very being. it leaves you feeling helpless, alone, undeniably anxious and hyunjin almost wants to turn around- go back to a time when they were happier, less afraid and more- more content. happy.

 

minho reaches the door first but he recoils when he tries to enter the passcode. he doesn’t want to know what horrible thing has occurred for jeongin to be crying to them over the phone, nor does he want to leave the younger ones alone in fear that something terrible may have happened. his mind twists and spins and, all of a sudden, he’s holding changbin’s hand.

 

the silence is deafening as woojin steps forward and types in the passcode, fingers shaking and making it hard to do so. the elder can feel his breathing stutter in his throat and, indistinctly, he can hear the sound of muffled weeps. he knows, then, that he can’t delay this any longer. he can’t leave their younger ones trapped without any means of relief. he can’t do that- because, god, they did that to jisung and look- look at what’s happened.

 

woojin glances over his shoulder to look at the others. they’re all still dripping wet and tear-stained, dark purples blossoming under their eyes. it’s a sight woojin has never thought he would see. he catches chan’s gaze and nods when chan closes his eyes and bites his lower lip, breath quivering.

 

with a deep breath in, woojin opens the door.

 

* * *

 

felix doesn’t know what to do.

 

god, he’s the oldest and he doesn’t know what to do.

 

truthfully, he’s never been one of those ‘leader’ types, instead opting to follow instructions like he’d been instructed to. but, that doesn’t mean he can’t take initiative when he sees any sort of negative emotion decorating his member’s faces. even so, as he watches jeongin and seungmin venture throughout the dorm with nothing but salt staining their cheeks, felix realises that he doesn’t have a single idea on how to make it better- how to make this pain go away.

 

“i think we should,” he gulps, “check the dorm for anything-” he doesn’t know how to put it, “-interesting.”

 

seungmin nods, sniffing. he’s quick when he moves, eyes on the floor and averting the walls painted with a sea of pictures. he’s afraid- felix realises, because looking at those photos will make him feel like whatever they had is coming to an end. he’s afraid of that- of not being the stray kids they started off as, the trainees that once fought but now treated each other like family, the brothers that went through every single experience together. no- seungmin doesn’t want that. “i’ll check-” he coughs, “-the balcony- and, the rooms.”

 

felix nods, eyes softening as he watches the younger september boy stumble to the balcony doors, opening them with shaking hands and stepping out with nothing but his thin pyjamas adorning his body.

 

jeongin, however, is different. he’s sat on the edge of the futon, knees drawn up to his chest and arms wrapped around them. his chin rests on top of his knees as he surveys the array of photos decorating the wall around the tv. felix moves towards him slowly, placing a hand on the back of his neck and rubbing comfortingly. “hey, innie. it’s okay- the others will find jisung and bring him back. it’s okay.”

 

jeongin sniffs, bring a hand up to wipe his eyes. “but what if they don’t?” his voice is close to a whisper. “what if we’re too late? what if they can’t find him?”

 

felix shushes the younger with a tight hug, rubbing the base of his back. “don’t say that,” he whispers, “they’ll keep searching and searching and searching. nine or none, remember? we don’t leave any members behind.”

 

jeongin nods against his shoulder, closing his eyes and trying to steady his breathing. “i’ll check around here,” he says after a few moments of silence, “are you checking the kitchen?”

 

felix nods, pulling away and standing. weirdly, his body feels heavy and his chest feels like it’s being ripped apart but he ignores the feeling in favour of helping jeongin up, giving his hair a little ruffle before making his way to the kitchen.

 

he’s less than ten minutes into his search when he hears a shout from the living room.

 

“hyung!” jeongin’s shout resounds throughout the dorm, scared and filled with something felix has never heard before. it brings seungmin’s attention away from where he’d been searching the balcony and felix almost drops his phone because of the urgency that filters through his voice. “hyungs! come here!”

 

felix almost trips over the doorstop when he reaches jeongin’s side, seungmin appearing from behind the curtains and hastily closing the balcony door. jeongin is sat in front of the tv, now switched off because felix couldn’t handle the innocence and ignorance the appliance once held. their youngest is knelt on the floor at the base of the futon, body hunched forward and covering whatever he’s holding in his lap.

 

he looks up at them with wide eyes, slowly unveiling a small box laying on his lap. at first glance, it doesn’t seem like anything special. it’s a regular brown box, dented at the edges and ripped at the corners. it’s boring and seemingly light and the only strange thing is the words decorating the lid.

 

in black pen, written in the smallest font felix has ever seen, the lid reads **_to stray kids_**. jeongin plays with the lid, glancing at felix and seungmin before slowly opening it.

 

the first thing felix notices is that there are a lot more polaroids that he could have ever imagined. they’re piled neatly on top of each other, bound together by a thin elastic band. beside them lies a notebook- the same one jeongin had read from during practice. the same one seungmin had caught jisung writing in after their outing at han river. the same one felix had found jisung staring at in the kitchen under the stove. a tape recorder is situated on top of it, lying neatly against the hardback book, a letter taped to the front of it.

 

jeongin moves first, taking the notebook out with gentle fingers, careful not to ruin or break anything. his hand brushes over the cover before he opens the pages. there’s a polaroid acting like a bookmark near the back of the book so he flips to that quickly, skipping past the pages and pages of lyrics.

 

felix gasps when his eyes land on the page. it’s decorated with newspaper clippings and magazine pages and movie tickets- memorabilia from long ago. but what really catches felix’s eye is the piece of paper dangling from the edge of the book. it looks like a screenshot from naver and the photo under the headline is one that erupts pure fear within felix’s chest. there’s a car, tipped on its side. it’s halfway inside a flower shop that felix recognises as the one that sells the pretty purple plants one can’t really find elsewhere in seoul. glass is littered all around the scene and hyssops spill out of the broken window- but they’re stained red instead of their natural purple. it’s a repulsive sight and felix has to turn away as the nausea builds up.

 

seungmin grabs the book quickly, lifting the article up so they can read it clearly. his eyes widen and jeongin urges him to read. his mouth stutters at first, opening and closing without even a breath of air exiting. his fingers start to shake violently and his breathing turns almost erratic but he reads. he reads even when his heart feels like it’s burning a hole into his chest. “idol,” he breathes in sharply, “idol group involved in a car accident.”

 

felix feels his world stop on its axis.

 

“four-” seungmin chokes, “-four fatalities.”

 

no.

 

no. that’s not right.

 

felix watches as seungmin drops the notebook onto his lap, chest heaving. jeongin isn’t moving. his eyes are wide and tears trail down his cheeks but his arms are lying limp at his sides and his chest isn’t noticeably rising or falling.

 

“seung-” this isn’t real, “-seungmin. what’s- what’s the date written on that article?”

 

seungmin looks up at him before lifting the pages up again, pulling at the neckline of his pyjama shirt. his eyes scan the page and he gasps, hand moving to cover his mouth.

 

“april 6th 2019.”

 

_nonononono-_

 

* * *

 

the first thing minho sees when he enters the dorm is felix pacing the perimeter of the living room. he’s biting his fingernails nervously and breathing heavily, rubbing his hand over his face every now and then.

 

the elder members strip off their wet clothes and approach the trio in the living room, caution in their every step. hyunjin moves first, noticing seungmin crying and rushing to his side, pulling both him and jeongin into his arms. chan does the same to felix, who buries his head into the junction between the leader’s neck and shoulder.

 

“what happened?” changbin asks, voice soft.  

 

jeongin pulls away from hyunjin’s arms, standing up and bringing a box up with him. he motions for them all to gather around and, when they do, he opens the lid once more. seungmin, hands still shaking, takes the notebook laying on top out and flips to a page near the back. he holds the notebook to his chest for a second before laying it out in front of them.

 

at first, minho doesn’t notice anything weird with the page they’re looking at. he sees the movie tickets he, jisung and changbin had obtained from their day off a few days ago, and he sees a receipt for the clothes hyunjin had forced jisung to buy not even a week ago.

 

but then he sees it.

 

he sees the naver article and the picture and the headline. he sees the way changbin’s face turns red and the way hyunjin stops breathing momentarily. he sees the way chan stumbles backwards and falls onto the couch, and the way woojin has to turn around. he sees the way jeongin, felix and seungmin hug each other close.

 

“what the fuck?” changbin is seething. “is this some sort of sick joke? han jisung, where the fuck are you? this isn’t funny!”

 

changbin’s making his way to the door again and he’s determined to put an end to this, hands clenched into fists and eyes glaring at everything and anything. minho has never before seen him so angry, so afraid, so… so terrifyingly firm.

 

“wait,” seungmin interjects, grabbing the sleeve of changbin’s shirt, “there’s more.” he flips the book all the way to the back, where a few sheets of paper are bundled up and tightly packed together with a paper clip.

 

“i think they’re-” he pulls them out hesitantly, placing one in the palm of everyone’s hands, “-notes? there’s one addressed to each of us and i thought we should read them together before listening to the tape and reading the letter.”

 

chan feels his hands shake and he nods, motioning for everyone to stay, just for a little while longer. he takes a deep breath, fingers trailing across his name written neatly across the middle of the folded paper.

 

with one last glance at all of his members, he unfolds the sheet of paper.

 

* * *

 

**to, woojin.**

 

_i’m honoured to be with you on this day, in this lifetime. i’ll always be supporting you from afar._

* * *

woojin sighs as he clutches his microphone tightly to his chest. he’s standing backstage at the kbs song festival, getting ready to get on stage and perform a 2pm song with wonpil. beside him comes the rattle of conversation, heavily muffled by the screams of the fans on the other side of the stage equipment.

 

he’s nervous. of course- it’s his first time performing with any of his seniors.

 

he sighs again, fixing his in-ear anxiously. he doesn’t know where any of his kids are, neither does he know where chan is. he’s probably with nayeon, he thinks, checking over his outfit as one of the backstage crew members start calling them onto the stage.

 

god, why is he so nervous?

 

his hands are sweating and his eyes are wavering. in front of him, day6 get ready on stage, fixing their instruments and mics. on the other side of the wings, chan emerges with nayeon and jihyo behind him. he’s in deep conversation with them and, god, woojin wishes he could do that too. but, well, he hasn’t been at jyp for as long as chan has. in fact, he hasn’t even been at jyp for as long as jisung or changbin, or even jeongin and, well, he can’t change that because-

 

something hard slams down on his shoulder and woojin bites back a scream.

 

a loud, familiar voice laughs in his ear and his body physically slumps in relief. he turns, feeling jisung snake his arms around his waist. his nose comes in contact with a soft tuft of grey hair and he sighs happily.

 

“don’t be nervous, hyung.” jisung pats his back softly, pulling back and smiling wildly. “i’ll be here.”

 

woojin laughs, “aren’t you supposed to be with changbin?”

 

jisung’s smile widens, gummy smile showing. “i thought you could’ve used the extra encouragement. i saw how scared you looked earlier.”

 

woojin grins sheepishly, starting to pull away as a woman calls him onto the stage. he ruffles jisung’s hair, muttering his thanks as he steps over the cables and hurries over to his spot.

 

“don’t worry, hyung!” he hears jisung shout one last time as the music begins, “i’ll always be here to support you!”

* * *

**to, minho.**

 

_would you be my soulmate in another lifetime too?_

* * *

 

minho blinks curiously, clutching a pillow close between his legs. in front of him, jisung sits with his head tilted to the side, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought and pillow pressed close under his arms.

 

“when are you the happiest?”

 

of course, jisung would ask something like this. they were _just_ talking about scary stories and now jisung _has_ to bring up such a deep question. it’s jisung- minho shouldn’t be so surprised. the younger had the insane ability of changing the mood of any situation within seconds.

 

minho blinks again a few times before humming, moving to lean against the back of the couch. jisung smiles slyly, winking at him and nodding his head as minho pretends to be deep in thought.

 

“tell me, baby.” minho inwardly snorts at the name. “you’re happiest when you’re with me?”

 

minho cringes, kicking jisung’s leg with his own. he laughs when jisung hits him with a pillow, eyes turning into half-moons when the younger whines at him. minho goes on to talk about being the happiest when the alarm goes off and he sees how much time he has left to sleep- mundane things like that.

 

but, really, that’s not when he’s the happiest.

 

later, after the shooting is finished, the director tells them that they have a bit of time to spare before they move on to filming their handwritten messages. they end up talking mindlessly about things that they couldn’t have talked about on camera- things like stories about the other members or incidents in the dorm rooms.

 

“for the record,” minho starts, flipping through a comic book he’d found in one of the orange drawers, “i am the happiest when i’m with you.”

 

jisung startles from where he sits on a bean bag, hand stuck inside a pringles can and feet tucked underneath a blanket he’d found behind the couch. his eyes are wide, comically, and his mouth dangles open, pringle dust decorating his lips. “really?”

 

minho snorts, averting his gaze and blushing slightly. “yeah,” he stutters, brushing the back of his neck, “you’re my soulmate, aren’t you?”

 

jisung chuckles, throwing the empty pringles can towards the elder and cringing slightly. “you hate that kind of stuff. you always call me things like donkey in front of stays.” he pouts sadly, huffing and turning his head away like a child.

 

minho rolls his eyes, lying down across the length of the couch. “yeah, well, now you know.” his eyes soften when jisung turns to look at him again, pout still upon his lips and eyes sparkling with admiration and adoration. “but seriously, jisung, i am truly happy when i’m with you.”

 

jisung smiles as he throws himself onto the couch, successfully smothering minho into a tight hug. “i’m glad, hyung.”

 

“i’m really, really glad.”

 

* * *

**to, hyunjin.**

_the most successful person in life is someone who has a friend who believes and sincerely thinks of them. in that way, i’ve already succeeded._

* * *

 

hyunjin groans as he enters the dorm.

 

he and jisung had another fight again today, a serious one. they would have gotten physical if it wasn’t for chan and changbin pulling them away from each other before they could hurt themselves.

 

he doesn’t even know why he got so frustrated with the younger. it’s just… he’s been on edge lately.

 

it’s unfair because hyunjin knows jisung works hard. in fact, apart from chan, jisung works the hardest out of all the trainees. he trains in rap, vocal and dance and is one of the strongest trainee producers they have. he writes lyrics for almost any beat chan creates and makes sure 3racha songs make sense and flow correctly. he stays in the studios with chan and changbin in his free time, making sure every sing they’ll perform is perfect and fit for them. he helps the other trainees with their singing and rapping techniques, plays guitar and works hard to make sure everyone is on the right track and not falling behind. so, really, who is hyunjin to tell him to work harder?

 

hyunjin sighs as he collapses onto the couch, brushing a hand through his hair. the dorm is quiet now that it’s past midnight, everyone fast asleep. really, he doesn’t want to go into his room where jisung may still be awake, writing songs into the dead of the night like he does every night. he sighs again and realises that he can’t ignore jisung forever so he sucks it up and stands, heading for his shared bedroom with changbin, jeongin and jisung.

 

when he enters the room, there’s no light- which means everyone is asleep. he can hear changbin’s light snores and can see the lump of duvet on top of jeongin’s bunk. there’s shuffling coming from jisung’s bed and a sound hyunjin can’t really comprehend. as he steps closer to jisung’s bed, he realises, with grave fear, that the sounds are soft cries.

 

he’s crying.

 

jisung is crying.

 

hyunjin doesn’t know what to do. he’s almost a hundred percent sure that he’s the cause of jisung’s meltdown so- so should he really do anything at all? god, why did he have to be so stupid? he knows jisung gets severely insecure- everyone knows that. why did he have to erupt during dance practice? why did he have to shout something so demeaning to someone he should consider a friend since they may debut together?

 

hyunjin hesitates as he tiptoes towards jisung’s bed, turning the small lamp beside the bed on, crouching down and patting the lump of duvet softly. “jisung?”

 

the shaking stops, and so do the cries. hyunjin’s almost afraid that jisung’s not going to want to talk to him but the shuffling starts again. jisung’s face emerges almost a second later, tears streaming down to his chin and teeth biting his lower lip. his cheeks as tinted pink and his nose is bright red, his eyes vaguely the same colour. “hyunjin?”

 

“hey,” hyunjin says awkwardly, “room for one more?”

 

jisung sniffs and shuffles backwards against the wall. he feels the bed dip when hyunjin slides in under the covers, his cold hands brushing against jisung’s arms.

 

“i’m sorry.” hyunjin starts, head hanging low. “i’m so sorry, jisung. i didn’t mean what i said- it was stupid. i was just frustrated because we’ve already lost minho-hyung and i can’t lose anyone else. i know we’re supposed to hate each other or whatever but i can’t- i can’t do that. i know you work hard, i really do, and i really appreciate everything you’re doing for us and i’m so, so sorry for-”

 

“hyunjin,” jisung cuts him off, bringing a hand to cup the elder’s cheek, “calm down. it’s okay. you were stressed and i wasn’t doing the move properly. if minho-hyung was here, i’m sure he would’ve told me off too.”

 

“still,” hyunjin whines, bowing his head, “i shouldn’t have said what i said. i shouldn’t have gotten so angry.”

 

“hyunjin, really,” jisung breathes, “it’s okay. i get it.”

 

“i’m sorry,” hyunjin whispers into crown of jisung’s head, “for telling you to dance better.”

 

jisung lets out a watery laugh, hitting hyunjin’s shoulder jokingly. “i’m sorry for telling you to rap better.”

 

“i’m sorry for making you cry.” hyunjin rebukes, a smile starting to form on his face.

 

“i’m sorry for saying we should pretend to be friends in front of the others. honestly, if i would’ve known you were such a good cuddle buddy i would’ve stopped fighting with you ages ago.” jisung laughs as he presses himself closer to hyunjin, wrapping his leg around hyunjin’s own.

 

hyunjin hums in response, eyes beginning to droop slowly. “hey, ji? can you sing something- that new song you're working on?”

 

jisung hums tiredly, pulling the duvet up to their shoulders and letting out a small cough before starting to sing a small tune.

 

that night, hyunjin falls asleep to the sound of jisung singing young wings in his ear, body warm against the younger’s own and heart filled with love.

 

* * *

  

 **to, felix**.

 

_let’s run together, my dearest friend._

* * *

 

felix shuffles nervously from where he’s stood outside the practice room door. beside him, minho fiddles with his microphone pack. they’re waiting outside of the practice room that the rest of their members- well, past members, were filming in. the practice room where felix had, himself, been eliminated in.

 

it’s nerve-wrecking, heart wrenching and felix is sure he can feel his blood travelling around his body, cold and, yet, burning.

 

inside, he can hear jyp talking, though he can’t really process what’s being said. still, his korean isn’t the best and the nerves bundled up inside of him make it even harder to translate in his head so he lets the words go in through one ear and out the other.

 

that probably isn’t the best idea when minho nudges his shoulder and motions for him to open the door. it’s at that point that he realises that jyp has stopped talking and he breathes in deeply, pounding his chest with a fist and taking a shaky step forward. his hands sweat as he reaches for the doorknob and he can feel his heart beat a mile a minute. he doesn’t know why he’s so nervous to see them again- sure, they’d talked after his elimination and they still ate together whenever they could but there’s something about being in front of all the cameras again that leaves him shaking.

 

he breathes again. feels minho pat his back reassuringly.

 

opens the door.

 

the first person he sees is jisung.

 

jisung, standing the farthest away from the door and yet seemingly the closest to him. jisung, who cried the hardest when he was eliminated. jisung, who hugged him close, sobbing, after his elimination. jisung, who helped him with his korean when he struggled. jisung, who writes songs like poetry, and works the hardest to make sure everyone was supported and appreciated. jisung, who feels burdened by compliments and always works to improve himself. jisung, jisung, jisung.

 

felix’s eyes catch jisung’s and he can almost see the exact moment his elder september twin realises that they’ve been given another chance. his body visibly straightens and his arms fall limp to his sides. the corners of his mouth lift until it forms a wide smile on his face, cheeks bunched up and eyes forming crescents. in the corners of them, tears start to form but jisung’s already walking towards him so the cameras don’t pick them up.

 

before he can even register it, jisung has his arms around his neck, hugging him so tight he almost can’t breathe. he’s whispering thank-you’s into his ear and cupping the back of his neck with a touch so tender felix almost melts. when he pulls away, they stare into each other’s eyes and felix swears he can see the galaxy in jisung’s own. jisung’s still smiling despite the tears that threaten to fall and his mouth gives a heart-shaped smile. “i’m glad you're back.” he whispers, voice soft, “nine or none, yeah?”

 

and for the first time in a while, felix smiles.

 

* * *

  

**to, seungmin.**

 

_i hate to tell you stuff like this, but i hope you know how much i appreciate you._

* * *

 

seungmin leans forward, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. he’s sitting in the waiting room in the after school club studio, waiting to be called over to begin shooting.

 

he’s nervous. extremely nervous. he’s _been_ high strung ever since he’d agreed to be the new mc alongside jimin and heejun. it’s not that he’s scared of working with his sunbaes, but rather, he’s scared of doing something- filming, without any of the other members of stray kids. he’s scared of messing up in front of the cameras, his nervousness getting the best of him.

 

he’s stressed. watching past episodes of asc, he realises that there’s a lot to take on being the new mc- talking to groups he’d never even thought of talking to before, translating from korean to english as well as english to korean in a span of seconds, brushing up on his knowledge of other idols, keeping up with conversations and making sure they’re as interesting as possible.

 

seungmin sighs as he buries his head into his hands. truthfully, he’s feeling a little bit lonely. his first solo broadcast and there’s no-one here but make-up artists to talk to. he knows their schedules are jam-packed and busy (especially 3racha’s) but he can’t help but feel a little bitter that he’s sitting in a dressing room alone.

 

it’s as if someone’s heard his prayers because the door slams open behind him and he startles, looking over his shoulder. jisung is stood in the doorway, bent over with his hands resting on his knees. plastic bags drag his arms down slightly and he looks up with a stressed look on his face.

 

“sorry, i’m late,” he pants and seungmin cocks his head to the side because, really, he wasn’t expecting anyone to come anyway, “i couldn’t find the right dressing room. this is the third one i’ve walked into.”

 

seungmin snorts, standing up to help him with whatever he has in his hands. “what are you doing here?”

 

jisung looks up incredulously, eyes wide in disbelief. he sits on the couch beside the door, opening one of the plastic bags and taking out a few containers of food. seungmin’s favourites, he realises. “why wouldn’t i be here?”

 

seungmin shrugs. “nobody else is here.”

 

jisung sighs, patting the space next to him and waiting for seungmin to sit before he starts talking again. “seungmin, you know the others would love to be here, but hyunjin and jeongin have classes today and felix and minho have dance practice planned. woojin-hyung’s got a recording for the comeback and chan and changbin have a meeting with jyp. i barely escaped, honestly.”

 

seungmin hums, picking up his chopsticks and sticking it into the rice. it’s obvious that he doesn’t quite believe in jisung, rather still doubtful of his own ability. jisung watches with a wondering gaze, sighing as he relaxes against the couch. “seung, look at me. don’t you dare think that the others don’t want to be here. felix was practically hanging off my arm when i left this morning.”

 

seungmin hums again and jisung uses his index finger to lift the younger’s chin. he’s still got food in his mouth, cheeks puffed out and grains of rice sticking to his lips. “we’re really proud of you, seungmin. don’t ever think anything less, okay?”

 

the younger september boy sighs, swallowing his food and setting the container down onto the table. “i’m sorry,” he brushes the tendrils of hair behind his ear, “i’m just nervous. like, terrified.”

 

“of what?” jisung pulls him close. “seungmin, you’re the best person i know for this job. you’re going to do amazing.”

 

“i don’t know…” seungmin trails off, scratching his fingers over his collarbones. “it’s just… i’m scared of messing up. what if i don’t know what the guests are talking about? what if i can’t translate in time or what if i misunderstand and say something wrong? there’s a million things that can go wrong in just the first five minutes of filming.”

 

“and there’s a million things that can go right too.” jisung places a hand on his shoulder, rubbing reassuringly. “you could make a joke that causes everyone to laugh or you could meet a new friend. you could become close to someone you’ve never even thought of befriending. what matters the most isn’t what others think, seungmin, it’s what you think. you need to have a more positive outlook on this. and if you make a mistake, so what? you’re not perfect, nor are you flawless. and it’s your first time, everyone knows the first time is always the worst. but, you need to understand that, no matter what happens, you have eight brothers and thousands of others supporting you from afar.”

 

seungmin nods his head stiffly, feeling something wet well up in the corner of his eyes. he tilts his head back to look at the ceiling, sniffing. god, he can’t and most definitely won’t cry- not in front of jisung. he hasn’t done that since the survival show. plus, he can’t afford to ruin his make-up when he could be called out any time soon.

 

“oh, seungmin, are you crying?” jisung’s voice is far from teasing, rather, soft and caring. loving.

 

“no,” seungmin objects, starting to fan his eyes slightly, “i just got something in my eye.”

 

jisung chuckles and seungmin hears some shuffling before the couch dips underneath him and an arm is wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him close. “that’s what they all say.”

 

seungmin turns his head slightly to bury himself into jisung’s shoulder, the slightly elder september boy brushing a hand through his brown locks. “don’t worry, seungminnie,” jisung whispers into his ear. “i’m here.”

 

* * *

 

**to, jeongin.**

_if things get hard, don’t get sullen. i only do it because i care about you._

* * *

 

jeongin grunts as he falls back onto the chair, bending forward and resting his head on the keyboard in front of him. he’s practicing school life with jisung before they properly record it and, no matter what he does, he can’t seem to sing it right.

 

“hey, hey,” jisung’s voice is next to his ear, warm and soft, “don’t get frustrated, yeah?” he’s rubbing jeongin’s back soothingly, reassuring the younger that there’s nothing wrong with his voice, that he just needs to improve his technique.

 

“i can’t get it right,” jeongin whines, moving to cover his face with his hands, embarrassed. “why is it so hard, hyung?”

 

jisung pulls at his arms carefully, bringing them to his chest with one hand and using the other to tilt jeongin’s chin to look at him. his face is filled with nothing but appreciation for how hard jeongin is working to improve, and pride for how far jeongin has come throughout the survival show. “listen to me, yeah? you can get this right; i know you want to.”

 

“but i can’t, hyung,” jeongin’s frustrated, eyebrows furrowed above his eyes.

 

“yes, you can,” jisung grunts as he pulls jeongin up to stand with him, grabbing him by his shoulders and staring him straight in the eye, “because you are yang jeongin and the yang jeongin i know will fight for this because he wants to debut and make music. because the yang jeongin i know works hard even when things get rough. because the yang jeongin i know knows that all we ever ask of him is done because we care for him more than anything else. so, jeongin, can you do this?”

 

jeongin stares at the elder for a moment, taking in the fire of determination in his eyes. he’s suddenly overcome with the desire to make the elder proud, prouder than he’s ever done before, because it’s obvious how deeply he cares and who is jeongin to not listen to advice from someone with more experience? “i can,” he says, “i can do this.”

 

jisung smiles, picking up the sheet of lyrics and scanning them over once more. “okay, jeongin-ah. you put too much strength on your mouth.” he motions to his mouth slightly, making weird faces before telling the younger to repeat after him.

 

it takes a few tries but jeongin doesn’t give up.

 

_“as the bell rings, the teacher scolds the sleeping kids.”_

 

“that’s much better!” jisung exclaims, raising his hand for a high-five, which jeongin sheepishly returns. “see, i told you! you can do it!”

 

“thank you, hyung.” jeongin smiles, sincerely. “thank you so much.”

 

* * *

**to, changbin.**

 

_as a person, as a singer, and as a hyung, you are always number one in my heart._

* * *

 

changbin taps his feet against the hardwood floor, eyes closed and head bouncing to the sound of the beat coming from jisung’s laptop.

 

they’re currently in the midst of preparing for their first-year anniversary as stray kids as well as their comeback, working day and night to finish songs and complete choreography. for the past few weeks, 3racha have been in the studio for every waking hour, missing out on appropriate meals and outings in favour of producing and writing.

 

it’s not the healthiest way to spend time but, well, self-preservation hasn’t ever been one of 3racha’s strongest qualities.

 

“hyung, do you think this line works here,” jisung slides across the couch, pen in his mouth and notebook laid out in front of him, “or here?”

 

“let me see,” changbin hums, taking the notebook into his own hands and scanning the page, reading the small scribbles painting the paper. “i think this would work better if you just swap this line with this one, maybe?” he stops, looking up at the younger, who sits with his palms cupping his chin.

 

jisung hums, smiling widely and taking the book back, scribbling down the new ideas before sighing loudly and closing it shut. “thanks, hyung. now, i’ve finished my part of maze of memories.”

 

changbin whips his head to look at jisung, who sits with the proudest smile on his face. “in fifteen minutes?”

 

jisung nods, reaching into his bag and pulling out a packet of choco pie, opening it teasingly and sticking his tongue out when changbin groans. “i’m the best writer,” he sings childishly, taking a bite of his treat, “the best writer in the world.”

 

changbin groans again, eyeing the blank sheet of paper on the table in front of him. “you’re such a brat,” he pouts, turning away. the pencil in front of him mocks him, and he almost wants to throw it across the room. for the life of him, he can’t think of anything good enough to warrant a place in one of their new songs, no matter how hard he wracks his brain.

 

jisung pats his shoulder, smile growing wider. “your brat.”

 

changbin scoffs, “chan’s brat.” because, well, it’s true. jisung is closer to chan than anyone else, having spent the longest time with him. sure, 3racha, in itself, is like a small family, but jisung and chan have a strong, unbreakable relationship.

 

“chan-hyung would never call me a brat.” jisung chuckles as he bites into his pie, licking the chocolate from his fingers. “plus, i’m more like his baby brother.”

 

“you just called yourself a baby.” it’s changbin’s turn to tease, whipping his head up to look at the younger and winking. jisung, in turn, shivers and changbin promptly slaps his shoulder, almost knocking the chocolate treat from the brunette’s fingers.

 

“you’re just jealous,” jisung turns his head upwards and makes a small noise of complaint. he does that for a moment before relaxing back against the couch. “don’t worry, changbinnie,” he sings, putting down the treat and wrapping his arms around changbin’s neck. “you’ll always be my number one.”

 

* * *

 

**to, chan.**

 

_it’s because of hyung that stray kids exists._

* * *

 

chan hums as he taps his pen on the table. he’s in the studio, producing some tracks and writing lyrics. it’s not going so well; the empty room makes him feel lonely and isolated and it’s hard to focus because the tick of the clock resounds and echoes throughout the room.

 

it’s different now that yugyeom and bambam aren’t here to accompany him.

 

outside, he hears someone shouting and he sighs again. of course, the new trainees have arrived. listening to the laughs outside, he can’t help but feel bitter- he wishes he were as hopeful and as optimistic as those kids were. he’d seen them before, vaguely, when they first auditioned. he and jihyo had snuck into the audition hall and sat far in the back, both yugyeom and bambam joining them when their schedules were over.

 

really, none of them had caught his eye.

 

on the table behind him, his phone rings. it’s one of the elder trainees telling him to _come greet the newcomers because jyp-pdnim wants you to help make them feel comfortable and show them around. you are his favourite, after all._

 

he stifles a laugh, rolling his eyes. if he really was jyp’s favourite, why hadn’t he been given any opportunity to debut? why was he still stuck in the same studio, producing the same songs, knowing he would never get the chance to release them? he stands, fixing the black cap up on his head. he stuffs his phone into his pocket and checks the room one last time before leaving.

 

on his way out, he bumps into a smaller figure. the boy, seemingly no older than maybe fifteen or sixteen, startles forward, turning around hastily to bow apologetically to chan, who plasters a small smile on his face.

 

weird, chan thinks, he doesn’t remember seeing this kid at any of the auditions he’d sneaked into. maybe he’s a foreigner or maybe he’d auditioned late. either way, chan looks the younger up and down, taking in his small figure and the aura he gives off. soft and sweet, yet feisty and lively at the same time. interesting.

 

“hello.”

 

no accent. chan has to stop himself from sighing. honestly, he’d really like to have another australian with him right now. he feels alone- has felt alone for a while now. he misses australia- misses his brother and sister and parents, the food, the people, the tv shows. he misses his home and he would do anything to even experience the life he left behind just one more time.

 

unintentionally, chan nods at the younger’s greeting. he panics, watching as the other boy shuffles nervously- god, why does he have to be so bad at first impressions?

 

“i’m jisung.” the boy introduces awkwardly, in english, sticking his hand out. “han jisung. i’m from malaysia. well, i’m korean but i’ve lived in malaysia for the past few years.”

 

chan laughs internally at how nervous the other seems, body rigid and eyes averting chan’s own gaze. he doesn’t know why but he thinks he’d going to take a liking to this one- maybe because he reminds him of his own younger brother, with his chubby cheeks and sparkly eyes.

 

his eyes soften when he realises that this boy is probably more like himself than he’d like to admit. he’s come a long way from his family and friends, travelled to a different country to train in one of the hardest, harshest and best companies in the korean music industry. he probably doesn’t have many friends here or know that many people yet and chan can definitely relate. especially because the younger is speaking english instead of korean despite being in korea. with that thought in mind, chan takes jisung’s hand in his own and shakes it.

 

“i’m christopher bang. or bang chan- call me chan.” he introduces in english too, smiling warmly. he watches as jisung smiles in return, cheeks bunching up under his eyes and lips turning into a heart shape. “i’m from australia.”

 

jisung nods his head, smiling ecstatically now that he’d managed to make a friend. chan laughs at his eagerness and motions for the new trainee to follow him as he makes his way to the cafeteria. “so, what do you do, jisung? sing? rap? dance? act?”

 

“i rap mostly, but i can sing too.” he looks sheepish as he talks, brushing his bangs slightly out of his eyes. “and, well, i write. i write lyrics.”

 

chan perks up, turning his head to look at the shorter boy questioningly. “oh? i write too. and produce.”

 

jisung’s eyes widen as he turns to face the australian, visibly excited to meet another person so involved in the creation of music. “really? i would love to hear what you produce, uh, chan-sunbaenim.”

 

chan laughs, ruffling jisung’s hair. “call me chan, or chan-hyung. i’m older than you, right? ninety-seven?”

 

“two thousand.” the younger bows his head slightly. “i’m really glad to have bumped into you; i was so scared coming in today because i don’t really know anyone and, well, everyone’s a little intimidating.”

 

chan wraps an arm around the younger’s shoulders, pulling him close. “stick with me, yeah? we’ll train and debut together and even write and produce together sometimes.”

 

jisung’s eyes visibly sparkle as he looks up at the elder. “really, hyung?”

 

the elder boy hums, pulling away and sticking his hand out like jisung had done. when the younger grabs his hand, he squeezes tight and rubs circles over the junction between his thumb and index finger. “i hope we get along well, han jisung.”

 

“me too, bang chan.”

 

* * *

 

_“hello? can you hear me?_

_it’s jisung- han jisung. the date is april 5 th 2020\. if you’re listening to this now, then i’ve left this message in your care. what i am about to tell you is something extremely important so please, do not turn this tape off or talk until i have finished.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [say hi!](https://twitter.com/jiskies)   
> 


	9. stay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i would promise you forever, in another lifetime, if i could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH(S), depictions of car accident, mentions of fire, blood and injury.
> 
> please, read with caution.

_stay._

_“hello? can you hear me?_

_it’s jisung- han jisung. the date is april 5 th 2020. if you’re listening to this now, then i’ve left this message in your care. what i am about to tell you is something extremely important so please, do not turn this tape off or talk until i have finished._

_exactly one year ago tomorrow, we were involved in a car accident._

_chan-hyung said it was an accident- that manager-nim wasn’t looking ahead because management had called him and he’d answered. when he looked up, a truck was speeding down the road. it was going fast- too fast. manager-nim reacted quick and he had swerved.”_

 

jisung sits in his hospital bed, playing with the hem of the blanket. beside him, he watches as the nurse replaces his iv. he asks when he’ll be able to leave, but the nurse only replies with a small smile and a shake of her head.

 

_“i don’t really remember what happened. we’d been on our way back home after a celebratory dinner or something- chan-hyung said. for our first win, he’d said. apparently, we’d won first place in a music show and the company had prepared a restaurant reservation for the night of april 5 th. it was a twenty-four hour restaurant so we left barely before the clock struck two in the morning of april 6th._

_manager-nim had swerved- into a curb. the car had flipped onto its side and he’d broken through the window of a small flower shop. hyssop. i remember seeing them spill out of the glass. the old lady that owns that store came to visit me once. i apologised for the damage to her shop but all she did was hand me a bouquet.”_

the nurse smiles as she catches jisung trying to sneak out of his room. i want to see my friends, he says, but the nurse only shakes her head and drags him back to his bed. not yet, she says, watering the flowers at his bedside, and jisung pretends not to hear the  _not ever_  that followed.

_“we were taken to hospital almost immediately. felix used to say that he could remember the sirens and the screams and the cries- but i can only ever remember seeing minho-hyung’s body being loaded onto a stretcher, crimson spilling onto the white of the sheet. after that, it was a blur and i didn’t wake up until nearly three days after the accident. but even then i wasn’t allowed to see anyone until almost two weeks after.”_

hyunjin is the first to visit him. he sits at jisung’s bedside with a bandage wrapped around his head and his arm in a cast. broken, he says, voice cracking, bruised. jisung pulls him into an embrace almost immediately, not caring that his chest burns and his leg throbs at the action. cracked ribs, he whispers in return, broken leg and bad concussion. hyunjin is quick to rub at his shoulder with his uninjured hand, apologising for not visiting sooner, but jisung shuts him down, silencing him by tightening the hug.

_“the day of the accident, they redacted our names from every news article and broadcast about it; it was a private matter, so they only referred to us as an idol group. but, then, we realised that we couldn’t stay under the radar forever, not with half of us… gone._

_the real articles came out four weeks after the accident- a whole month. stray kids involved in a car accident, they’d said, four fatalities. four deaths- that’s what it had meant. four had died. woojin-hyung, on the operating table. changbin-hyung, upon impact. seungmin, two days before i woke up. and jeongin, on the way to the hospital. though, jeongin’s death was partly due to the food poisoning he’d obtained beforehand. his immune system and body was already weak and the crash had only caused it to worsen. i don’t know much about the details. chan-hyung hates talking about it.”_

hyunjin is there when the news breaks out. he’s on the bed, lying curled up in jisung’s side with his thumb rubbing the palm of jisung’s hand, but the warmth of his touch does little to soothe the younger. the tv is on, the news reporting of a speeding accident that occurred in the deaths of four idol stars- four innocent lives. jisung doesn’t register the words- not really. his body is numb and his ears feel like they’ve been filled with cotton and it’s as if he’s sinking because he can’t seem to get a grip. hyunjin worries and frets over him, hiding his own tears and his own pain, but jisung is too far gone to notice.

 

_“felix and minho-hyung weren’t that much better off. both had stayed in intensive care for almost three months after- relying heavily on life support machines. hyung had a large scar on his head that came about when he fell in the practice room. because it was still healing when we got into the crash, he suffered an infection and almost died. felix, well, he’d nearly lost his leg. but he fought. i know he fought. you were always so strong, ‘lix._

_chan-hyung was the least injured out of all of us. he’d been sitting the farthest away from the impact of the car, thus resulting in him getting only a few bruises, scars, fractured ribs and a mild concussion. but the guilt he carried afterwards changed him.”_

“chan-hyung?”

 

chan looks up from where he’d been staring at his hands, fingers bandaged.

 

jisung stands in the doorway to his bedroom, crutch in one hand and the other leaning on the doorframe for support. he’s looking much better, bruises fading and scars turning into small marks on his cheeks and neck. he’s adorned in a black suit, a newly bought one since he’d lost so much weight following the accident that none of his clothes really fit him anymore.

 

“are you coming, hyung? hyunjin’s already in the car.”

 

chan shakes his head, lying back down on his bed and pulling the covers over his head. he pretends not to hear jisung’s painful whine as he bumps his leg into the doorframe, crutch hitting against the floor as he approaches the bed.

 

“hyung,” he repeats, voice soft and shaky, “you need to come- you need to say goodbye.”

 

chan doesn’t reply, tightening his hold on the covers when jisung makes a move to pull at them insistently. the younger is crying, his words are slurred and he sniffs as he talks. it only takes a moment for chan to realise he can’t bear to hear anymore crying, ripping the covers off and pushing jisung’s shoulders harshly.

 

“i told you already, i’m not going!” his voice is harsh- too harsh. and he knows it’s wrong to lash out on the younger but he can’t help it. the pain in his heart increases and the ringing in his ears turns deafening- hurting.

 

he watches as jisung stares back in shock, looking up from where he’d been shoved to the ground. his crutch lies halfway across the room but he’s quick to crawl towards it, hauling himself up using the wall and quickly limping away. chan takes a moment to realise what he’s just done. he’d shoved jisung- who only wanted him to attend the funeral of the four people that meant the most to them. but he couldn’t- couldn’t say goodbye.

 

and, when he hears the front door slam shut, bang chan screams.

 

_“hyunjin nullified his contract with jyp four months after he was released from hospital- four months after the accident, and moved out of seoul. he’d tried to continue- for me, for us, for stays, but i could tell it was hurting him. there were times when he’d get nightmares so real that he couldn’t sleep, and there were times when the pain in his chest would stop him from dancing. so i told him it was okay to leave and it was okay to want to stop and take care of himself. because, hyunjin, i didn’t want you to keep hurting yourself. i didn’t want to lose you too.”_

“thank you, ji.”

 

hyunjin watches as jisung wobbles his way out of the dorm building, crutch held tightly in his hand. he closes the car door quickly and moves to help the younger, grabbing his arm for support.

 

“it’s really no problem, jin.” jisung responds, “whatever makes you happy.”

 

hyunjin looks down momentarily, lip trembling. “i’m sorry- for leaving like this. i’m sure chan-hyung is angry and i haven’t even said a proper goodbye to felix and minho and-”

 

jisung shuts him down, squeezing the elder’s hand tightly. “we understand, hyunjin. it’s okay.”

 

“i’m sorry,” hyunjin chokes out, engulfing jisung in his arms, pressing the younger’s head to his chest. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry.”

 

“it’s okay,” jisung continues to whisper, eyes screwed closed and fingernails digging into the palm of his hands. hyunjin squeezes tighter and he pretends it doesn’t hurt. “it’s okay, jinnie.”

_“after hyunjin left, chan-hyung grew distant. i don’t blame him, to be honest. with woojin-hyung, changbin, seungmin and jeongin gone, and felix and minho barely conscious in hospital, there were times when chan-hyung would just- disappear. i could tell he blamed himself greatly but, chan-hyung, if you’re listening to this- it wasn’t your fault. it was never your fault. what happened that day- what happened to hyunjin in the weeks and months that followed- none of it was your fault._

_none of it was your fault- because it was mine.”_

jisung sits in the small recording studio, microphone in his lap. he has his notebook out in front of him, pages torn and ripped. the words on the page blur as he speaks, recounting the accident and the days that followed it.

_“i tried to change it. my second attempt- i’d made us leave the restaurant early. something about feeling sick- i can’t remember. i thought that, if we left earlier, we’d miss the speeding truck and, hopefully, not get into any accident whatsoever. that- that was a really bad decision. because kids were crossing the road, and manager-nim still looked at his goddamn phone, and nothing- nothing changed._

_and so, i tried again._

_i tried scheduling in at least another hour of practice. i tried asking if we could take new routes home. i tried making us not go at all. i even tried postponing the comeback. i tried- i promise i did.”_

“hyung?”

_“but it wasn’t enough.”_

 

changbin looks up from his phone, cocking his head to the side as he watches jisung slide in through the door, hopping onto the couch and burying himself into changbin’s side.

 

“ji?” the elder rapper asks, sliding his phone into his pocket and turning his body so the younger leans on his chest. “what’s up?”

 

_“do you remember the butterfly effect? every time i changed something, it altered the future. if i did stop the car accident from happening, things would have changed drastically. all for the worse. i know; i’ve seen it all. but the worst, by far, was my ninth attempt. jeongin was really sick that night- from the chicken. and minho-hyung had a bad headache because of the incident in the practice room. i couldn’t save them those times. and so, we had a movie night instead of celebrating out. i figured that was okay. that way, we wouldn’t be in a traffic accident. that way, we could be saved._

_but hyunjin started a fire._

_i couldn’t stop it. i couldn’t stop the flames or get us out in time because the door had already erupted in bright orange. jeongin was too sick to even stand on his own and minho-hyung wouldn’t wake up. you all died that day. i thought i did too- but, when i woke up, i was stuck in this god-awful cycle again._

_so, i did my research. i read book after book after book on time travel, read diaries and biographies. and it led me to one conclusion.”_

 

jisung says something, voice muffled by changbin’s chest. changbin runs his hands through the younger’s hair, taking note of the way his body shakes and stutters. he asks the younger to repeat what he had said, but he never stopped. the words repeat like a broken record or a song on loop.

 

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

_“it was me._

_it was always me. i was the reason things turned out the way it did. i was the reason jeongin got ill and why he didn’t. i was the reason minho-hyung fell and why he didn’t. i was the reason we got into the car accident in the first place. i was always there- always watching. and yet, i did nothing about it.”_

“jisung? where are you going?”

 

 _“the grandfather paradox is a_   _paradox of time travel in which inconsistencies occur through changing the past. in 1931, it was described as ‘the age-old argument of preventing your birth by killing your grandparents’. a person travels to the past and kills their own grandfather before the conception of their father or mother, thus preventing the means of travel.”_

 

jisung looks up from where he’d been packing his bag. felix is sat up, perched on a mountain of pillows. he’s on seungmin’s old bed, because they all share a room now. with hyunjin gone, there’s only four of them left in the dorms but chan is barely home and minho would rather sleep in a place where he isn’t reminded of his deceased best friends.

 

“i’m just going to check up on chan-hyung, make sure he’s eaten and everything.” jisung answers, moving across the room to grab his phone and his notebook off the desk. felix watches with apprehension, fingers playing with the loose threads of the pillow in his lap.

 

“no, you’re not.” felix whispers, eyes squeezing shut.

 

jisung freezes from his spot on the floor next to his backpack, back facing the slightly younger boy.

 

“you’re going back again.”

 

felix had found out about his plans by pure accident. really, it was his fault for leaving his notebook out for the younger to stumble upon. jisung had denied it at first- laughing at how ridiculous his claims sounded, but felix had broken down into his arms, begging him not to do something as stupid as going back and harming himself for the sake of others.

 

you can’t change the past, he’d said. but he was wrong.

 

and what jisung was planning to do was going to prove that.

 

jisung sighs quietly, zipping his bag up and standing, back still facing felix. he’d rather not see the younger cry- not again. “i’m doing this for us, ‘lix.” he says, walking towards the door of their bedroom and pulling it open. “i’m doing this for us.”

_“the grandfather paradox does not exclusively regard the act of killing one's grandfather to prevent the existence of the traveller. rather, the paradox encompasses any action that modifies the past. an_   _equivalent paradox is known in philosophy as the retrosuicide paradox, or, autoinfanticide; going back in time and killing a younger version of oneself._

_but by doing that, it would mean doing so before i met you, before i auditioned for jyp, before i even moved back to korea in the first place. and i didn’t want that. call me selfish, but i didn’t want to leave without saying a proper goodbye, so i settled for the next best thing.”_

 

when jisung opens his eyes, sunlight filters into his vision, travelling in streams through the blinds. beside him, chan is sitting at the recording desk, fingers lying on the keyboard as he snores in his chair. changbin lies on the couch across from him, beanie pulled over his eyes and blanket wrapped tightly across his shoulders.

 

_“march 1 st 2019, exactly twenty-five days before our anniversary.”_

jisung rushes to check his phone, eyes trained on changbin’s living, breathing figure. his eyes blur with tears as his phone almost slips from his grasp and when he sees the date  _friday, 1 march_ , he breathes a watery sigh of relief.

 

_“because if this is the sacrifice i have to make to save my best friends- i would do it over and over again.”_

* * *

 

_**stray kids.** _

_in sixty seconds, a bullet travels one thousand, three hundred feet. lightning strikes three hundred and sixty times. the sun will fling sixty million tonnes of matter into space._   _and one hundred and seven people will die._

_in less than sixty seconds, two hundred and forty thousand new stars were born. in less than sixty seconds, two hundred and fifty heartbeats were brought into this world. in less than sixty seconds, eight of the most important people in my life were taken away from me._

_in the end, i’ll have experienced this month nineteen times. i have had to watch our- your, futures slip through my fingertips eighteen times. and i’m not going to let that happen again- i’m here to change it._

_maybe it was the guilt, or my own selfish desire for solace. either way, i’m glad i was given this chance to rewrite our fates, even if in the end, you will forget my face, and my voice, the stories i tell, and the way i rapped, the way i sang and the way i used to do things. even if, in the end, you will forget han jisung._

_and i won’t hate you for that._

_hyunjin, seungmin- do you remember what we talked about that night on the balcony?_

_jeongin- we said he was growth. transition from child to adult, wanting time to go back and youth- hebe, the goddess of youth and the prime of life. sparkling eyes and soft grins. tiny giggles under blankets and the little marshmallows you get in hot chocolate. reassurance and support._

_woojin-hyung was newly-blossomed trees. bungee-jumping and warm hugs. soft words and honey-like vocals. the smell of newly-washed laundry and the taste of freshly made pastries. teddy bears and cuddly toys. aspiration and wishes._

_chan-hyung was the flowers that decorate nature. old books and letters, the epitome of hard work and patience. the sound of music that filters through earphones and the tunes that boom through loudspeakers. keyboards and pianos. nostalgia and leadership, determination and passion._

_minho-hyung was peaceful streets. cat treats and small snacks. trainers squeaking against the practice room floors and hands dancing as he talks. weird filters and loud noises and random confessions. wishes on falling stars and genies in bottles. moving on and revolution._

_changbin was street corners. piercings and tattoos and bitter coffee and graffiti. arcades and passageways, desire and fortitude. thick blankets and cartoon toys, whines and pouts. stage lights and rehearsals. computer screens and notebooks filled to the brim of lyrics and melodies. change and contrast._

_hyunjin was the moon. crescent smiles and meteor showers. late night talks and city whispers and streetlights and walks in the dark. early winter mornings and the smell of hot chocolate next to a fireplace. rebellion and safety wrapped into one._

_seungmin was the stars. the constellations, the skies. dances in the rain and late spring afternoons. music boxes and new melodies, guitars and microphones. paintings on canvas and ink on paper. art galleries and exhibitions and models and statues. calmness, peace, reconciliation._

_felix was the sun. rainbows and daisies, dancing in the wind. playing tag in the meadows and dancing barefoot in the summer fields. flowers blooming and birds chirping in the summer sun. sunrises and sunsets and honey bees and the colour yellow. love and hope._

_and you called me home. to you, i was cartoons playing in the background of sleepy whispers and under silk sheets. i was vanilla-scented candles and chocolate cakes and the scent of coffee during rehearsals. i was fairgrounds and carousels and ferris wheels, loud laughs and quiet chuckles in one. i was lyrics and compositions and piano sheets and music._

_i was home._

_but, you see, you had it wrong._

 

_i was hyssop. sacrifice._

_i wasn’t home; you were. you all were._

_so, instead of being angry or regretful, i will thank you. for being my family- for being my home. thank you for accepting the flawed j.one, the lacking han and the imperfect jisung into your lives. thank you for raising me and loving me._

_i would promise you forever, in another lifetime, if i could._

 

* * *

 

a boy sits in the rain.

in front of the dorm building resides a small garden, always a shade brighter in the rain. but, under the moonlight, the buttercups that painted the garden amber and the daisies that sprinkled silver are no longer present- trampled on by the harsh winds that blow past. the grass is no longer littered with the coffee-coloured leaves of the trees in which they once resided, instead bare and decorated with the muddy soil underneath. benches on the outskirts are dark, besmirched with the graffiti left by the kids living in the apartments, only, this time, the words and drawings are smudged, no longer legible or clear enough to see a proper figure. the garden is bleak and barren, but that doesn’t stop the boy hunched on the bench closest to the entrance, illuminated by the harsh glare of the streetlamps.

 

a boy sits in the rain.

 

he seems unbothered by the rain hailing down on him, soaking through the thin cotton of his cardigan. the street lights illuminate his brunette locks, dampened by the rain, and emphasises the shaking hunch of his back. he waits in silence, one minute and then two. nearly.

 

a boy sits in the rain.

 

in his left hand lies a small hyssop plant, the purple contrasting with his pitch-black attire. he holds it close to his chest, whispering a small apology to the plant before standing, making his way out of the garden.

 

on the way, a businessman walking in- probably from a late night shift, offers him his coat and an umbrella. the boy refuses, waving his hands about in denial. he ignores the way his teeth chatter, and the way his body feels like it’s being stabbed by a thousand tiny needles as he bows and walks away.

 

the streets are empty now- as they should be. the streetlights barely illuminate the roads, flickering on and off under the thunderous hail. in the distance, a dog barks and a car squeaks against the road before it’s silent again.

 

“remember,” the boy says, “you’re doing this for them.”

 

he reaches his destination in only five and a half minutes- enough time to prepare himself. his hands shake as he shoves them into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. his fingers run over the stained ink, tracing the words as he stares at the picture underneath. it’s a photo- taken only a few days ago. one he’d been planning to give to his brothers before he left- but found he couldn’t do so. in it, his figure is standing in the centre, arms wrapped around changbin’s neck, lips puckered as the elder pulls back with a look of mild disgust on his face. on his left, chan stands grinning, dimples on full display as he hugs felix’s waist close, the younger posing with his chin resting in his palm. beside changbin, hyunjin has his back turned to the camera, looking over his shoulder playfully at minho, who has his hand up ready to pinch the younger’s cheek. between them, woojin is halfway through a laugh, the corner of his eyes crinkled and his lips pulled into a smile. on the other side, jeongin is crouched onto the floor, trying desperately to get away from seungmin’s arms, which slither around his neck playfully.

 

it’s chaotic- but it’s them.

 

he smiles pitifully as his fingers run over the rough edges of the picture.

 

“in another lifetime.”

 

* * *

 

thunder seams through the sky, knitting itself within the rainclouds. it spreads out into the night, rumbling its warning. it comes like a prelude to a song- quick and loud, shaking buildings and waking the sleepy.

 

jeongin cowers into hyunjin’s arms, clutching the latter’s biceps tightly. the elder is crying- wailing, loud enough to match the thunder outside. his head is thrown back, face raised towards the ceiling as he holds their youngest tight. his heart beats rapidly against his chest, mind filled with visions of the past- the other past. he sees jeongin, drenched in blood, and woojin, body bent in an abnormal way. he sees changbin, chest unmoving, and chan crying out for help. he sees seungmin, reaching out towards him but he can’t take his hand and felix and minho are bleeding out from their wounds and-

 

-and he’s too late.

 

seungmin reaches a hand out weakly, wanting to find comfort in someone- anyone. his mind flashes with all his occurrences with jisung since the beginning of march but all he sees is sad smiles and silent cries and broken promises. he’s seen this before- the night jisung had asked him about the butterfly effect. the visions, oh god- the visions. his hands latch onto woojin’s shaking figure before he even has time to think and he’s pulling at the elder’s arms insistently. “hyung-” he doesn’t feel the words tumble past his lips, “hyung- we need to go. we need to  _gogogo_ \- hyung we need to-”

 

minho is quick to take a frozen felix into his arms, ignoring the way his teeth chatter. his body is shaking- but not from the cold, and he thinks he might be hyperventilating, squeezing felix’s arm as a way of keeping himself grounded. the latter stands motionless, tears leaking down his cheeks as his mouth moves to form words that never escape his lips. he watches seungmin struggle and hyunjin cry and so desperately wants to leave- to find jisung and tell him to  _quit this prank now it’s not funny_ \- but his body doesn’t respond. his legs don’t feel like his own and he can barely feel minho’s tight squeezes.

 

changbin is the first to move. he curses loudly and throws his hand against the wall, denting it. a picture falls and, with it, a tear. he calls out for jisung, voice weighed down by unshed tears. his feet stomp the ground as he calls out for the youngest 3racha member, legs moving on their own. chan stops him with a tight hug at the door. the leader presses changbin’s ear against his chest and runs a hand through the younger’s hair, holding him tight as he struggles. “hyung, let go,” he’s crying, “hyung- we need to find him- he can’t do this, no- he can’t- let go!” he pushes at chan’s chest weakly. “hyung, let go! this is jisung- ji- we can’t just let him do this!”

 

chan only pulls him closer- tighter. tears stream down his face, burning his skin and staining them with guilt. he listens to changbin shout against his chest, ignoring the pain in his heart as he listens closely to the slurred words coming out of the young rapper’s mouth.

 

“-running out of time. think about this closely, hyung. jisung- han jisung, the person you’ve known the longest out of all of us, the person you’re the closest to here, the person who kept you here, made you stay- hyung, he’s going to disappear and you don’t want to stop that? listen to me, hyung. it’s not too late, we can go get him back and stay here for the rest of the night- please, chan.”

 

what he’s saying makes perfect sense, chan thinks- they can go and retrieve jisung from the rain, make it back to the dorms on foot and talk it out, come up with another solution.

 

_autoinfanticide._

 

the word rings through his ears like a symphony- only, it comes as a warning. deep down, he knows the consequences of messing with the fates- half of his brothers should have died, and the only reason why they’re still here is because of-

 

“-jisung. above everyone.” changbin is pulling at his sleeve now, “don’t you remember that, hyung? when he was going through tough times and we promised we’d always be there for him- hyung, do you remember?”

 

_do you remember the butterfly effect?_

 

chan bites his lip, gnawing at the skin until it breaks and bleeds. he ignores the metal taste in his mouth as he glances around the room. seungmin is wrapped up tightly in woojin’s arms, who holds on to the tape recorder tightly. the eldest looks up with a look of apprehension and nods slowly. chan understands, because of course he does. they have to do something- and they have to do it now.

 

_one small change._

 

“jisung. above everyone.” woojin echoes changbin’s words, watching as felix and hyunjin move to the door hastily.

 

“everyone.”

 

* * *

 

they’re running in the rain.

 

their shoes squelch against the pavement as they run and their eyes burn with the saltiness of tears mixed with the precipitate that falls upon them. woojin glances around tiredly, taking note of where they are. from houses and shops around them, people watch as they race through the streets, wondering idly why such children are playing in the rain at this late hour.

 

pants fill the air, muffled by the sound of rain hitting earth. they stop for a moment to catch their breath and look around, eyes wandering to every corner of every street. hyunjin vaguely realises that he’s been here before, searched this street already and found nothing but drunk men and students.

 

but now it’s empty.

 

the streetlights flicker and felix feels himself slowing down. his body shivers excessively and his feet aren’t responding to his brain telling him to  _run faster, run before it’s too late._ his heart pounds against the inside of his chest and, for a moment, he can’t breathe.

 

his eyes catch sight of movement and he does a double-take.

 

there.

 

jisung is standing in front of hyssop, his figure illuminated by the pretty flower shaped fairy lights decorating the entrance. his eyes are closed and his head is tilted up to the sky, uncaring of the raindrops that fall on his face. his hands are limp next to him, holding a dampened piece of paper and a small purple plant.

 

he takes a step forward, off the pavement, and seungmin gasps.

 

_change it- would you change it?_

 

“no!” seungmin screams, surging forward- but- but why is the street getting longer? “no! i wouldn’t change it!” he looks up but jisung is still walking. “not- not if it means losing you like this.”

 

jisung takes another step.

 

changbin feels something running down his cheek, burning his skin and leaving it red. his teeth are chattering as wind starts picking up, violently thrashing through the streets and making it harder to see where he’s going. everything blurs except for jisung’s figure, standing on the road so far away- why is it so far away? “han jisung!” but he can’t hear it. “han jisung, don’t do this to me, you brat!”

 

another step.

 

minho feels himself leaping, not caring about the puddles of water he steps in or the way his feet are soaked. his eyes are focused on one thing and one thing only- jisung, his soulmate. he prays, to whoever can hear him, for someone to save the boy he’s grown to love as a brother, to give them another chance, to not have jisung sacrifice himself for the sake of their lives.

 

and another.

 

jeongin can feel his blood running through his veins, burning icy cold. his lungs are having trouble keeping up with him and he can feel his lips starting to turn blue. the wind carries the petrichor and he cries out- he’s not going to make it in time. in the back of his head, he can hear jisung’s voice encouraging him.  _you are yang jeongin. and you fight for your brothers._

 

chan feels himself stutter in his step when a car speeds past, barely missing the boy standing in the middle of the road. someone cries out again- minho, but he can barely pick it up over the rain. when he turns around, felix is sobbing as he runs, eyes closed as he clutches hyunjin’s hand tightly.

 

he needs to stop this- needs this to end.

 

but when chan looks down, the letter is no longer hanging from his fingertips. something wraps itself around his index finger and he gasps at the hyssops that hug his skin tightly. his head snaps back up to the boy standing in the middle of the street and he reaches a hand out, tears slipping down his cheeks and he calls out again, begs, pleads-

 

_you can’t leave, not like this._

 

there’s a faint screech of tires and the smell of fuel before light shines over them, illuminating the crystals that fall from the skies. someone- woojin, cries out one last time and chan picks up the pace, running faster than he’s ever ran before. his legs burn and his heart stings painfully. thunder echoes and his headache intensifies.

 

_i can’t do this without you, jisung._

 

but jisung- jisung stays as still as ever, smiling from where he’s stood in the middle of the empty road. light blinds him from his left side but he doesn’t turn, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move.

 

instead, jisung looks up, for just a second, and glances at the life he’s lived- the life he’d leave behind. he looks at chan- his foundation, his leader. changbin- his number one, his guide. woojin- his fatherly figure, his protector. minho- his soulmate, his hero. hyunjin- his best friend, his shield. felix- his twin, his other half. seungmin- his best ‘frenemy’, his partner-in-crime. jeongin- his little brother, his best admirer. stray kids- his home, his life.

 

and, with one last smile, jisung raises his hand, whisper on his lips, and waves goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [say hi!](https://twitter.com/jiskies)   
> 


	10. hyssop.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is them- this is his weird, childish little family.

_this too, shall pass._

 

when chan was younger, he used to have this dream of making it big. becoming someone and changing the world. he had dreams of writing music with meanings, sharing his own thoughts, ideas and experiences for others to relate to and realise- they’re not alone. he used to think he could do that by himself. but now, sitting in the living room watching seungmin and jeongin argue, chan realises that the only thing stopping him from making a difference was the fact that he didn’t have the right people to do it with.

 

“jeongin,” woojin sounds exasperated as he walks out of his bedroom, “can you please stop screaming? it’s seven in the morning.”

 

seven? chan, himself, should be sleeping, really. he and changbin had a late night in the studio, barely stepping into the dorm as the clock struck three in the morning. but, going to sleep last night was rough. he doesn’t know why but he’d had trouble sleeping, tossing and turning repeatedly despite the lethargic feeling overcoming his body.

 

it’s strange.

 

there was a boy, he remembers, standing in the studio he and changbin usually work in. he was wearing a mask and his eyes were covered by his bangs so chan could barely take a look at his face. and he was talking, saying things chan could barely understand. he was holding something in his hands, too, trying to hand it to him but he’d woken up before he could take it.

 

“hyung,” jeongin whines, trying to pull away from seungmin’s hold, “tell seungmin to get off me.”

 

woojin ignores him, making his way to the kitchen. he passes chan, who stands leaning against the wall, and hands him his phone. “good morning,” he nods, opening the kitchen door and sliding in, chan following, “you and changbin going to the studio later?”

 

chan hums, switching his phone on and scrolling through his reminders. “yeah, we need to finish working on side effects and recording the guide for road not taken.” it’s taking them twice as long to finish the tracks nowadays; they constantly feel like something’s missing from the creative process and it’s getting harder to work under the pressure. “we just can’t seem to find the right… i don’t know, flow? it’s like, we write but none of it’s coming together. it feels like there’s something that needs to be added but we don’t know what.”

 

woojin hums, handing him a cup of coffee. “don’t stress out too much,” he reassures, “i’m sure you’re just feeling high strung because the comeback is so soon after the last one.”

 

“i don’t know,” the leader shakes his head, huffing, “anyway, i’ve managed to schedule jeongin’s check-up in for tomorrow morning after vocal practice and minho needs to go to the clinic before dance rehearsal but i’ve got a meeting with jyp, so, can you go with him? i’m sure it’s nothing serious; they just want to check if he’s able to fly out for the tour.”

 

minho had fallen- during a late-night dance session a few weeks ago. it wasn’t a bad enough fall to land him in hospital but he did need to get a few stitches from the company clinic. he’d twisted his ankle too, leading him to be banned from excessive dancing (which meant no more late nights in the practice rooms). jeongin, too, had somehow managed to obtain food poisoning. chan doesn’t know how; they’d all eaten the same things for the past month. either way, jeongin wasn’t fit enough for long schedules for a while, only appearing when they had stage performances.

 

woojin nods, leaning back against the counter. “i’ll take minho after my vocal practice session.”

 

chan breathes out, resting his head on the palm of his hands. honestly, he thinks, woojin is a life-saviour. without him, chan truly believes he would’ve never managed to debut as the leader. because, well, woojin is the only person he can go to when things get rough. sure, he has changbin, his long-time best friend, but woojin is _different_. he’s older and treats them all with so much love and care- it’s outstanding, and chan truly admires him for it.

 

“hyung?”

 

chan whips his head around to see that hyunjin and felix are stood in the doorway, clad in the matching pyjamas they’d stolen from each other’s wardrobes (seungmin has a pair too, only, he keeps his clothes safe and everyone knows not to steal from him). he smiles at them from where he’s stood next to the stove and motions for them to come in.

 

“do we have practice today?” hyunjin asks, stealing a slice of toast from woojin’s plate. woojin tuts at him and hands the younger his own plate, passing down felix’s as he does so.

 

chan nods, checking his phone. “yeah, in an hour. which reminds me, we need to start getting ready.” he glances up, noticing woojin’s confused expression. “jyp wants us to meet someone before practice. apparently, we have a new producer.”

 

“a new producer?”

 

chan startles as changbin emerges from the pantry, hands buried in an empty bag of bread loaves. minho shuffles out behind him, holding an empty egg carton in his hands. woojin is quick to hand them their own pre-prepared plates, flicking their foreheads lightly for hiding in the pantry.

 

“yeah,” chan hums, amused, “bin, i told you last night.”

 

changbin blinks, stuffing his face with the honey-glazed toast. “sorry- wasn’t paying attention.”

 

chan sighs, handing him a fork and leaning against the counter next to woojin. “anyway, pd says he’s a foreigner and he’s, apparently, quite young too.”

 

felix perks up, spoonful of egg halfway in his mouth. his newly re-dyed hair falls over his eyes and he blows upwards to move it. chan chuckles to himself and brushes his fingertips over the bleached hair. honestly, felix has been hoping for another foreigner to arrive for a while now, wanting someone to relate to about the struggles of coping with the culture changes.

 

chan hums, “yeah, so we have to be there before practice so we can be introduced to him.”

 

“hey, hyung,” jeongin walks in with seungmin shuffling behind him, both looking at something lying in the youngest boy’s palm. all the attention shifts to the pair and jeongin is quick to hand chan whatever is lying in his hand. “i found this under the couch.”

 

it’s a polaroid, edges darkened and torn slightly. the writing on it is barely legible but chan figures that, if he squints hard enough, he’ll be able to read whatever decorates the stained white. he glances at the picture first and feels something well up in his stomach.

 

it’s them, but… he’s never seen this photo before.

 

he and changbin are in the centre, the younger’s left arm wrapped around chan’s shoulders as he does peace signs to the camera. beside changbin, hyunjin is facing their backdrop, back pressed tightly against changbin’s shoulder because minho looks about ready to either smother or fight him. in between them, woojin acts as the mediator, eyes closed as he laughs with his hands pressed against both of their chests. on chan’s side, he holds felix close by the younger’s waist, arms resting on the blonde’s hips. next to him, jeongin is bent forward, eyes closed and mouth open, halfway through a shout. seungmin is next to him, dragging his arm down to the ground playfully.

 

chan reads the caption again, trailing along the smudged words. **_in another lifetime_** , he reads, handing it down for felix to take a look.

 

“do you ever remember taking that?” minho asks, handing seungmin and jeongin their own plates.

 

they shrug, passing the photo around. hyunjin takes a quick look at the picture, smiles, and sticks it onto the fridge with a magnet they’d been given by a fan from their last fansign- a small stem of purple flowers.

 

woojin claps his hands, placing his empty plate into the sink. “anyway,” he says as jeongin shovels a spoonful of eggs into his mouth, “if we need to get there early, we should probably start getting ready now.”

 

jeongin says something around his spoon and felix drops his and hyunjin’s plates into the sink, smirking at the two youngest and running out of the room with hyunjin hot on his heels. seungmin’s eyes widen in understanding and he shoves a whole slice of toast into his mouth, barely taking a breath before running out behind them. minho and changbin disappear into the pantry again and chan watches as jeongin finishes the last of his meal and shuffles out of the room.

 

“what just happened?”

 

chan scoffs, turning to the sink and pulling his sleeves up. “they don’t want to do the washing up.”

 

woojin stands next to the door, eyes wide in confusion. he thinks for a moment before laughing softly to himself, perching himself on top of the counter. “they act like such kids.”

 

“they _are_ still kids at heart,” chan smiles.

 

woojin hums and takes the soapy plates from chan’s hands, drying them with a towel and putting them back into the cupboards. there’s something… nice about moments like this. moments when their family is a bit more domestic at home than they are working on something. moments when he can hear changbin and minho messing around or the younger ones arguing about something mundane and trivial. moments when they can act like normal adults rather than famous idols. moments when, just for a second, they can just be together- as eight best friends and brothers, as family.

 

his eyes catch the picture again.

 

in another lifetime, chan thinks. how strange.

 

* * *

 

when they get to the company building, they make their way to their regular practice room. jeongin leads the group, seungmin hanging from his shoulders and talking into his ear about something chan can’t really understand. minho is pacing quickly, trying to dodge hyunjin, who repeatedly pinches the skin on the back of his neck playfully. felix nudges changbin slightly and the elder, surprised and still half-asleep, trips over his own feet, almost colliding with the wall if it weren’t for woojin grabbing the sleeve of his hoodie.

 

chan smiles. this is them- this is his weird, childish little family.

 

a commotion erupts on the other side of the closed door of their practice room and chan is quick to motion for everyone to walk in.

 

jyp claps his hands excitedly, smiling down at them from where he’s stood next to the speakers. “ah, you’re here,” he says, motioning for them to rise when they bow, “there’s someone i’d like to introduce you to.”

 

the door on the other side of the room opens and a hunched figure walks in, almost tripping over his own shoelaces when he moves to bow. the boy looks no older than hyunjin, felix and seungmin- barely older than jeongin too. his head is bowed and he has a beanie on but minho can clearly make out the blue hair that sticks up under it. his figure is small, smaller than anyone else’s in stray kids and he barely scratches being taller than changbin. the oversized yellow hoodie and tight black jeans he wears does nothing to toughen his image, hands turned into sweater paws and legs fidgeting anxiously. he looks… sweet. innocent.

 

vaguely, changbin recognises him from somewhere.

 

“this is j.one.” at the mention of his name, the boy looks up and flashes his chocolate-coloured eyes, hazel under the practice room lights. woojin notices that he has a piercing on the right side of his bottom lip. “a song-writing and producing prodigy from malaysia. he’s joining the producing team so he’ll be working with you from now on. j.one, you’ll primarily be working with chan and changbin but i know the rest of them have a tendency to help out when making music too.”

 

the new producer smiles nervously, scratching the back of his neck. seeing now tense he is, jyp continues talking, patting his back lightly in order to make him feel a little more comfortable. “j.one, here, is the same age as hyunjin, felix and seungmin, and, as you can see, he’s quite shy. so, i thought it would be best to introduce him to a group he can feel comfortable with before i take him to the studios.”

 

j.one fiddles with the rings on his fingers, cheeks turning a light shade of red. he looks ready to object but he catches felix’s eye and backs down, rubbing his elbow and biting his lip. chan notices and smiles slightly, comfortingly, because he knows felix can be a bit… intimidating to strangers, but that’s just his image. really, he’s just a lovable softie with glaringly sharp eyes that just make him seem cold.

 

the newcomer bows again, hands clasped together as he greets them, “hello.” his voice is soft and somewhat familiar yet that of a stranger at the same time. it drips from his lips like honey and fills the room like a harmonious song. it’s sweet to the ear and minho can imagine his laugh to be as relaxing as little bells ringing. “i’m-” he stutters, rubbing his elbow, “j.one.” he tilts his head downwards and his beanie comes falling, arms flailing to catch it.

 

next to him, minho hears hyunjin giggle. when he looks, the younger is smiling widely, already accepting of the shy, clumsy boy in front of him. he looks at him as if they’ve known each other forever, smiles like they know each other’s secrets. minho watches as hyunjin bounds forward, already introducing himself and the others without much room for interruption.

 

jeongin smiles nervously when he hears his name tumbling out of hyunjin’s mouth, waving awkwardly at the shorter boy in front of him. seungmin snorts and the younger is quick to elbow his side, glaring discreetly. beside them, woojin hisses and they seize their playful hits, standing straight and, instead, pinching each other’s legs.

 

“welcome to jyp,” woojin greets, smiling his work-only smile.

 

j.one bows his head towards him slightly, thanking him.

 

“chan, changbin- i expect to see the two of you at the studios tonight so you can all start working together on those tracks you’ve been struggling on.” jyp claps his hands lightly again, motioning for j.one to follow him out of the door.

 

the blue-haired boy shuffles against the hardwood floor, bowing goodbye before turning to leave. chan bows his head in return, turning around and gesturing for them to begin practice. hyunjin moves first, hurrying over to the laptop with woojin right behind him, ready to turn the speakers on.

 

“wait.”

 

chan turns, head tilting curiously. he hears the rest of them stop moving, the music starting before stopping momentarily. j.one stands with his hands in his front pockets, looking down at his trainers. his cheeks are now a rosy red and he looks flushed as he speaks.

 

“jisung.” he stutters, looking up at them again, “my name is han jisung.”

 

chan smiles, stepping forward and ruffling the younger boy’s blue hair with one hand and stuffing the other into his own hoodie’s front pocket. the rosiness of his cheeks increase and chan chuckles at the embarrassment that radiates from the smaller figure. “nice to meet you, jisung.”

 

he doesn’t mention the _again_ that almost rolls off his tongue, threatening to fall from his lips. he doesn’t need to, because jisung is there- in front of them, smiling the heart-shaped smile chan could never forget. that’s why he seemed so familiar when he walked in, the leader thinks, because his eyes form crescent moons when he smiles and his cheeks pucker up like those of a quokka. vaguely, he remembers something like this: loud, childish cartoons playing in the background of sleepy midnight whispers and under soft silk sheets. vanilla-scented candles and chocolate cakes sprinkled with as many toppings as the body can take and the strong scent of coffee during rehearsals. late nights at fairgrounds and carousels and ferris wheels, loud laughs and quiet chuckles packed into one. lyrics and compositions and piano sheets and music.

 

in his pocket, chan clutches the hyssop tightly.

 

this time, he’s not letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fin.
> 
> first of all, i would like to thank everyone who has supported and enjoyed hyssop in the past few months. thank you for your kudos, your comments and your encouragement. thank you for taking this long journey with me and always anticipating what’s to come. you’re all amazing and i hope you know that i appreciate every single one of you.
> 
> i’m planning on doing oneshot about jisung’s point of view throughout this fic, so please look forward to that!
> 
> if you would like to contact me to be friends or to ask me any questions please dm me at [jiskies](https://twitter.com/jiskies) on twitter <3
> 
> shameless promo for all my nctzen readers too: [starry night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14547030), [starlight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14592915), [flower patch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16213637)


	11. nine.

**nine or none. forever and always.**


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